Escape From Ashran
by Ihsan997
Summary: Their service on alternate Draenor over, Cecilia, Khujand and their close friend Irien head back to Azeroth, intent on living normal, mundane lives. For for one 12,000 year old sentinel, her voodoo wielding fiance and their sniper bff, leaving a world of warcraft is easier said than done. 5 chapters.
1. Goodbyes

**A/N: welcome to another short installment in the ballad of Cecilia and Khujand, dear readers!**

 **First of all, it is NOT necessary to read my other stories before reading this one. I've done my best to explain their backstories across...well, all five chapters really. Of course I would love it if you do read my other stories, but that is up to you, and it isn't required to understand this one.**

 **Second of all, the story is finished. Like almost everything I write - including the 45 chapter story that comes after this one - I never post the first chapter until the last is already finished. Enjoy!**

It was a relatively quiet afternoon in Highpass that day. Despite the uneven ground of the settlement, there were usually more people going in and out. Several earthy embankements, most of them a few dozen meters wide, formed the bulk of the Alliance city built on a sort of natural half pyramid. A general calmness typically permeated the air even on the busiest of periods, due in part to the planning of the garrison.

Few travelers were checking in at the front gates, which led through a high defensive wall made from locally cut tropical wood of Gorgrond where two heavily armored draenei warriors manning the post along with the gnomish administrator looked quite bored as they inspected the ID of a few arakkoa merchants. Further up on the next level, the tents that had been set up for other recruits - that specific part of the flat slope wasn't large enough for proper barracks - lied dormant as the off duty troops either slept or fought off the monotony with yet another card game. The highest level, protected on one side by another wall and the other by a mountainside, held the civilian buildings. A combination of contractors from Azeroth providing services and locals from Draenor trying to make a living dominated the crowded area full of narrow, poorly planned dirt paths. And one tent in particular - bearing the symbol of the neutral Steamwheedle Cartel - was where Cecilia Hearthglen found herself that afternoon, making the final preparations to return to Azeroth with her best friend, perennial partner and sister in all but blood, Irien.

The two night elf women sat in a bench at the table of the cartel's registrar, suited up in their armor and with their bags packed as if ready to undertake a long journey. And it was there, on that day, a week after their actual going away party and a day after their second rescheduling, that they sat and waited for the final approval for their departure from the alternate version of Draenor they had found themselves working on.

Fitzy, the cartel's overly enthusiastic relocation coordinator, scribbled on a few sheets of paper as she chattered away. A twenty something human, she was stationed in Ashran but had to fly out to any location on Draenor where a Steamwheedle employee applied for relocation, reassignment or resignation. She was one of only three on the planet, hence the multiple delays in the arrival of their relocation contracts.

 _More like a retirement contract, really_ , thought Cecilia. Both she and Irien had first worked off debts for the weapons and armor the cartel had issued to them when they started working security on goblin passenger ships years ago - for Cecilia, almost five years prior and for Irien, seven. Then, they purchased a duplex together in Ratchet using a company account, like most everyone else in their circle of friends. Cecilia's fiance (she had been engaged for six months) helped speed up the final payments, and after a full year of working security for Steamwheedle shipping services on Draenor, both she and Irien were in the fast lane for assignments to cartel businesses back in the port city they'd decided on as their new home - part time work only, by their choosing.

Irien planned on opening a business given all the free time she'd have working only a half day. As for Cecilia...well, when you're over twelve thousand years old, you deserve a bit of rest.

Just then, Fitzy finally mentioned what the two of them actually needed to do, snapping both Kaldorei women back into the present.

"So I just need you two to initial here and here to acknowledge that your replacements here on Draenor have been properly trained for their duties," Fitzy chirped in that annoying voice of hers that always went up at the end as though she were asking a question.

Cecilia and Irien initialed silently.

"And sign here to formally acknowledge your releases from your assignments here on Draenor," Fitzy explained carefully as though that form as any different from the one before it.

Cecilia and Irien signed silently.

"And sign here to acknowledge that the cartel waives any responsibility for your safety on the boat ride to Ashran."

Cecilia signed silently. Irien grumbled impatiently.

"And sign here to acknowledge that all responsibility for the utilities at your duplex will transfer to you upon registration with the dockmaster at Ratchet."

Cecilia and Irien signed silently.

"And initial here to formally accept your new positions at the Steamwheedle post office and way station in Ratchet."

Cecilia and Irien initialed silently.

"And initial-"

 _::SLAM::_

"FOR GODDESS SAKE JUST GIVE US THE WHOLE STACK!" Irien bellowed while slamming her sort of longish fists on the table.

"Ohmylordydon'teatme!" Fitzy shrieked while literally falling backward out of her chair.

She hit the ground with a thud, and a bored looking draenei guard had already entered the tent. "Anything the matter?" he asked reluctantly.

"NO!" Irien shrieked right back at him while Cecilia pulled her back down to a sitting position.

Leaning in close enough such that her face was almost in Irien's messy hair, she tried to calm her younger (relatively speaking) friend down. "Come on, we're almost there. Just one more hurdle and we'll be done with all this."

"Alright then!" the guard replied as he turned tail and walked right back out without even waiting for Fitzy to to readjust her glasses.

"You guuuuuuyyyys I'm just trying to help youuuuu," the young human whined as she sat up and rubbed her head, and it took all of Cecilia's sheer power of will to keep Irien sitting rather than jumping all over Fitzy and shouting something about clobbering time.

"Thank you very much, Fitzy. My associate has a unique sense of humor. Isn't that right, Irien?" she asked the riflewoman expectantly. Irien only huffed in response and grabbed the stack herself while Fitzy searched for her shoes on her hands and knees.

Before they could even finish signing the sheets on their own and just as Fitzy managed to climb back on to the bench, the familiar irreverent prancing of light draenei hooves sounded off as the flap of the tent was pushed open.

"Cici! Irien! Today is the goings!" Anushka, one of the assistants in the cartel's shipping operations on Draenor, lamented in her broken Common. "Henceforth today I am to be having big sad!"

Ironically, Anushka seemed more giddy than sad as she forced a hug on Irien. The spaz had been a constant companion during their year long assignment, and although she would eventually be settling down in Ratchet as well, she had cried the most at the two elves' going away party the other week.

Before she could hug Cecilia - it wouldn't have had to be forced - Anushka noticed Fitzy still looking a bit dazed on the bench. "Ditzy Fitzy! You comings to us!"

"My favorite super spaz!" Fitzy chirped as she stumbled up and almost fell over again before Anushka caught her.

"You like Highpass?"

"Yeah I like Highpass!"

"You like Gorgrond?"

"Yeah, it's really neat!"

"Me also too!"

"Have you ever been to Karabor?"

"Oh yes! I'm goings Karabor usually sometimes!"

"What about Shadowmoon?"

"Yes, I was havings big visit!"

"Awesome!"

"How you likings Auchindoun!"

"I almost died, it was incredible!"

"I was almost nearby the approached of maybe sometimes perishables as welltofore!"

On and on they went, babbling about anything and everything without fatigue. As annoying as it was to listen to, it gave the two Kaldorei the time they needed to finish signing everything. There were only a dozen more sheets or so, and they didn't even bother reading them before signing. Over the past few months, they'd had plenty of time to negotiate the terms of the contract with Manny, their primary contact at Ashran. There really was nothing to review, especially after having had an extra week to mull everything over. Once the two of them finished, Cecilia rose to pull Anushka away from her long lost human twin.

"Anushka, we've been ready to go for a while, so we're going to fly out now," she explained after switching to Orcish. Herself, Anushka and Irien all understood the language well but Fitzy did not, and it allowed them to shake the irritating human off more easily.

Not taking the hint, Anushka responded in her broken Common again. "Oh greetings! I recovers from my sad now, so let you see us off!"

Irien facepalmed at the same time that Fitzy's eyes lit up. "Oh, you're leaving right now? I know the perfect way to say goodbye!" The over enthusiastic human leapt up, miraculously not falling over this time as she struck a ridiculous pose. "Did I ever tell you two about the time I led the cheer club at the academy in Stormwind?"

"A thousand times, Fitzy," Irien groaned.

"Well guess what? I was the leader of the cheer club at the academy in Stormwind!" the human repeated, impressing only Anushka. "And I just so happened to bring my pom poms for this trip!"

Mortal terror filled both night elves as the human stopped and dropped as though her clothes were on fire and rolled underneath the bottom edge of the tent, quickly fiddling with an old trunk she had stored back there earlier.

The papers signed, Cecilia tossed Anushka over her shoulders like a sack of potatoes and followed Irien, who had already bolted out of the tent flap and was running and weaving in and out of the relatively thin crowd leading toward the flight point.

"Oh! Ouch! Bouncings!" Anushka stammered while trying to brush her freshly dyed pink hair out of her eyes. "Where to - ouch! Go?"

"Don't talk! Just try not to fall!" Cecilia gasped as she literally jumped right over the heads of a few worgen waiting in line at a hawker stall for a couple of scones. "We don't have much time before Fitzy figures out where we went!"

The brand new flight point was just within view ahead, in between a new leather working shop and a dealer in small metal components for tools and vehicles. The planning for the settlement was haphazard, but at that moment the uneven roads and buildings made for an easy maze to slow down the cheery horror looking to thrust her overly enthusiastic performance on them.

Their bags were waiting for them next to the flight master, along with Vegnus, the area co-manager for Steamwheedle operations. A relatively skinny dwarf sporting a rather short beard and a youthful demeanor, he carefully guarded Cecilia and Irien's belongings as they were fastened to two insectoid mounts ready for launch. After the going away party the other week, he and Anushka were the only people from their social circle left at the settlement, and given that the two night elves had already said their goodbyes, there was no reason to linger. Especially when Fitzy was on the prowl.

Setting Anushka down next to Vegnus like a potted plant, Cecilia quickly shook the dwarf's hand and dodged Anushka's attempt to literally kiss her while giving her a hug. Though normally a practical joker and an instigator, Vegnus had expressed to Cecilia earlier his understanding both of the fact that he would see them in Ratchet in a few months anyway and that both women disliked long goodbyes. Shaking Irien's hand and nodding without any silly jokes, he spoke quickly as the flight master helped them ascend the bizarre flying mounts.

"Khujand will have left already, right?" Vegnus asked in reference to the Darkspear troll Cecilia was engaged to.

"That's right, he has a much longer flight than us and will probably have made a pit stop at the Cenarion Circle settlement up north," she said in a rush while strapping her belt on to the saddle safety ropes. "He'll need to give them a proper goodbye for the sake of building a relationship once we're in the Barrens. He still wants to learn a healing spell, and teaching voodoo is illegal under Horde law now, so he'll have to cross train in another school of magic." She didn't even know why she was explaining all that now, but Cecilia felt nervous both at the coming boat trip through hostile waters and the fact that this would be the first time either of them traveled long distances as neutral individuals rather than members of one of the two major factions. Much less while traveling together, to a new life.

"About damn time he learns te heal!" Vegnus laughed while helping Irien don her flying gloves. "I've seen that man take wounds that'd kill most people twice over. Plus, his resurrection spell isn't much use when he can't patch people up after the fact."

"Vegnus, we'll miss you, see you on the other side, don't do anything crazy, watch your back, yadda yadda yadda," Irien chortled while leaning over as much as she could on her saddle to give the short man a big hug.

"Ye two take care of yeselves, and take care of that fiancé of yers, Cici," he laughed while pulling out his guitar and strumming it lightly. "Ye, me, Anushka here, Yara, Kiul...we're all going to be neighbors in a quiet, conflict free life soon."

"That's what the good guy says before getting whacked," Irien countered as she donned her flying goggles and put her gnomish engineered day vision goggles in her backpack.

"Goddess light your paths!" Cecilia hummed while putting her own goggles and gloves on. Her insectoid mount flapped its wings as she started to say something else, only to be interrupted by the sound of wood splintering.

 _::CRASH::_

"Oh yeaaaaahhh!" Fitzy cried out while literally jumping through and smashing the wall of the leather workers' shop.

She had somehow changed into a sweater and skirt with the colors of the Alliance, and had brought with her her pom poms and a full dosage of crazy. Cecilia and Irien's mounts took off just in time, and Fitzy knocked several patrons waiting in line for flights off the flight platform as she tried in vain to fly through the air after them. Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Vegnus started singing "Ave Maria" while playing his guitar, and the last thing Cecilia saw were the guards hauling Fitzy away for destruction of property while Anushka tried to negotiate her release in draenei language.

Sharing a smirk with Irien, Cecilia kicked her heels and picked up speed as they flew toward the northeast coast of Gorgrond. The co-factional ship would likely be docking at a settlement of the native Laughing Skull orcs - new members of the Horde but not hostile toward the Alliance per se - and they had a flight that might last just under an hour.

"A whole year in another dimension," Cecilia laughed across the wind to her best friend.

"We served our time. Now we need a lot of rest!" Irien laughed right back as they raced toward the coastline.

And after so many millennia of waiting, Cecilia thought, she would finally be a civilian. She would finally have a normal life.

* * *

The wind blew only lightly over the snowy fields of Frostfire Ridge that morning. Though the temperature was slightly less chilly than other parts of the year, adventurers from Azeroth still needed to bundle up a little more than the native orcs of Draenor. It was a harsh, desolate landscape, and there was no better a setting for such a somber scene.

Beyond the white capped hills lied the settlement of Thunder Pass, a bustle of activity from Horde contractors from Azeroth and local Frostwolf orcs forming a thriving community and a bulwark against the forces of the Iron Horde. Though somewhat poorly planned, it was huge and full of life, and would likely outlive the war campaign and become a major city on the planet in its own right. Caravans moved in and out of the main entrance ramp and wind riders patrolled overhead, monitoring the Iron Bulwark for any activity of Grom Hellscream's forces. By and large, the settlement had been at peace for a very long time. As a whole, at least.

On the other side of the rocky hills sat the local cemetery, far out of view of most inhabitants. Per the customs of the orcs, the graves were simple, not raised above ground level and only had plain, smooth stones to mark the individual resting places. One grave in particular had a downcast visitor.

Wrapped in furs, a large man with a light blue complexion and bright red mane knelt and rested a hand on one of the graves. Two four inch long knubs that had once been long tusks poked out of his mouth, which had been pulled into a solemn frown. His short beard bobbed up and down as he murmured a quiet prayer of farewell to someone who had affected him so much.

"Jarinta...I told ya last week I'd be leavin' taday," Khujand spoke to the grave softly. "And now it's time. I had only been here on this planet...what, not even a week, not even a week on tha outside, when we met. And it took another two weeks before we said more than a few words ta each other...and then ya were gone."

The man's voice cracked emotionally, but a slight smile crept on to his face. He swore he would never forget, and he meant it. "Sometimes I wish I had known of ya health condition. Maybe I woulda made more attempts to reach out. Maybe things woulda been different. Or maybe..." Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, the man relaxed his shoulders. "Maybe it was supposed ta happen tha way it did. That ya would live ya short life...ya unfairly short life ta tha fullest, without mopin' or lettin' it keep ya down."

A slight breeze blew some of the snow over the grave, burying it as it had the others. Even though he knew it would be buried again once he left and then lost in time as the graves of all orphans end up, he brushed it off. As long as he lived, her memory would stay alive. That was all he could do.

"I don't know if it's...creepy, that I only knew ya for one evenin' and now ya memory is affectin' me so much. But it is. Ya were a great kid. A great kid..." he murmured, letting a breath shudder before he continued. "My own daughter is almost ya age now. I only saw her twice. Now, I'm leavin' and ya gonna stay buried here, on another planet, in an anonymous grave. But ya gonna live on. And I...I'm gonna contact my daughter. I'm legally barred from doin' so, but I gotta try ta see her again. Just one time, ta know her mama and her new daddy are takin' care of her. That's enough. I guess sort of how I know seeyin' ya one last time here is enough. Cause ya memory is still with me. And I'm never gonna let it go."

Silence took over for a moment as the man looked at the grave for a while, steeling his nerve for the symbolic gesture that had proven so difficult for him. Now, it was the morning of his departure, and he would never, ever be on this planet again. He would have to do it, and do it fast.

"Goodbye."

Heavy footsteps plodded through the snow as Khujand made his way back to Thunder Pass, adjusting the harpoon strapped to his back. He would need the fifteen minutes or so of the hike to calm down after yet another emotional milestone in his return to life on the outside.

It had been a year and a month or two since he had been released from prison. He had served a good six years and some change for crimes that he hadn't committed, though the crimes that he DID commit were much worse than what he had been convicted of. Through judicial corruption, his lawyer had swapped his identity with another prisoner for the sake of convenience; apparently, Khujand's willingness to sign confessions for crimes neither he nor the other criminal involved in the identity swap had committed allowed a particularly embarrassing case to be closed for Horde officials, and the man formerly known as Garot'jin the war criminal became known as Khujand the highway robber. Further corruption and negotiation on the part of his lawyer led to him being released a year early on the condition that he take part in the first push through the Dark Portal into the Tannan Jungle, a suicide march if there ever was one. If he survived - and he did - he could live out his parole while fighting the Iron Horde on Draenor and then be returned to Azeroth to his own devices. That he was a particularly skilled hero - a shadow hunter, one of the champions of the trolls - meant that he had been set loose after Tanaan to fight Hellscream's forces as he saw fit, rather than being forced into some garrison guard role.

But freedom had terrified him initially. He had no home, no true identity and not a soul in either world to care for him. It was only by chance that, after his first month on the planet, he had been saved by Cecilia and Irien while stranded in Gorgrond with a dead mount and no food or map. Recognizing her as a prisoner of war he had illegally set free many years before, they quickly reconnected with each other. The rest, as they say, was history.

As Khujand ascended the ramp into Thunder Pass to collect his things and say his last goodbyes, he still wondered if it was all real. Every other night, he went to sleep expecting to wake up back in prison in the morning, realizing that his release, his freedom and his newfound love were all a mocking dream. His recurring issues with mental and emotional instability didn't help, either.

 _Like me_ , echoed a voice in his head independent of his own conscious thought.

"Shut up," Khujand said out loud, not noticing the odd stares he received from people he passed by on the beaten paths of the settlement as he talked to his inner monologue.

The numerous shops and warehouses of the town were surprisingly well built considering that most of the growth had occurred during the first three weeks of the campaign, right when he had arrived. He passed by their porches and windows for what would be the last time, wondering where life would take him next. He had moved so many times. Born in the far north of Stranglethorn Vale, his family moved to a larger town as refugees before joining the entirety of the Darkspear tribe on their isle off the coast. Constant harassment from the rival Bloodscalp tribe drove them across the ocean to the Lost Isles. Once again refugees when that island sank, he joined the Horde with the rest of his people in Durotar, then fought in Ashenvale and Hyjal during the Third War and staying on for further military service afterward. His six year prison sentence that followed was a huge chunk of his life considering that he had just turned twenty eight years old. Add a year on another planet, and he really did feel the instability of having no home until now.

He rounded a corner as he approached the inn where he had been living, finally smiling deeply as he thought of Cecilia, his fiancé. As different as her life had been, she was similar in terms of what influenced her the most. She initially lived in only two places: two thousand years in Suramar and then ten thousand in Serenity, a tiny night elf grove of only twenty five female inhabitants. Yet despite that huge amount of time, it affected her very little; the monotony of performing the same duties day in and day out dulled her feelings, memory and sense of time. The ten years since her people had lost their immortality and begun ageing left a much stronger imprint on her personality. Her emotions returned, her sense of time relativity returned, her very self and consciousness returned. And she, too, had been a traveler.

After committing her own fair share of atrocities during war, she had been captured and then set free by him only to wallow in guilt from the innocent people she'd killed at the Warsong Lumber camps. She bottomed out in Booty Bay as so many naive people of all ages did, and spiraled into a few years of drug abuse and poverty followed by labor exploitation only to snag a job on the goblin passenger ships. She'd pulled herself back up on her feet much better than he had, and she was not only his fiancé and future wife but also his inspiration.

 _That's your new life_ , the inner voice told him. _The two of you own property in a neutral town when most of the world's population lives in serfdom and can't read. Be positive_.

Sighing as he entered the inn funded by goblin money, Khujand relented and admitted to himself that the disembodied voice was right. He'd woken up every morning for the year since he and Cecilia had been together, including the first six months before getting engaged and committing to more than just writing letters and visiting each other via flying mount when possible. And on every single one of those mornings, this life had still been real. It wasn't a dream.

The inn was empty save the owner, Ushka, the middle aged Orc female who had overseen its construction and management under the auspices of the goblin investor who realized money was to be made off of the adventurers fighting Hellscream. Khujand had said his goodbyes to everyone save her, and as he watched her from behind as she sat on a chair in the dining area and read a novel, he couldn't help but hesitate.

After living anonymously in military camps once he made it out of Tanaan, he had wound up at the Battle of Thunder Pass only to find himself camping out in the cold like many of the heroes and heroines afterward. The inn only partially complete, Ushka had taken the socially awkward man in as a charity case and gave him menial work while he tried to get situated and find more significant ways to fight the Iron Horde. Not once did Ushka ever complain about him taking up one bed that could have been rented to guests, or about his random, often weeklong trips to other parts of Draenor for trysts with a night elf (Cecilia might not be a member of the Alliance, but her race was still viewed as enemies of the Horde). Ushka had been nothing but kind and accommodating, and that made Khujand feel like a leech.

Thinking twice before actually touching the very self possessed matron, he settled for sitting in the chair next to her. She greeted him quietly as she finished reading the page she was on, even responding to the handful of inappropriately timed questions he asked her before she had finished reading.

Once she was done with her page, she set the book down to look at him.

"So this is it, then. Your bags are packed and ready at the door."

He glanced over to see his oversized bag right where he had walked in. He had returned his copy of the key to the bedroom for the hired men before visiting little Jarinta's grave, and took a moment to lay his former harpoon against the wall for the others to use as they saw fit. In a technical sense, everything was ready for his departure save the signing of his release from parole at the registrar's office near the flight point, where he had already booked a rylak (he was too heavy to ride anything else) the day before.

"Yeah...I guess it's time, then," he sighed, unable to conceal his sadness.

Playing it off at first, Ushka continued looking at him blankly. "It's for the best. You've changed considerably over the past year, Khujand. You still have a few quirks to straighten out, but - for the most part - you're almost becoming normal."

He forced a smile despite the crushing awkwardness he felt around her. So much did he want to say, yet so little did he understand how to express it. She continued looking at him as if she knew there was more, which only added to the tension in the back of his neck.

 _Make small talk. It will help you ease in to things_.

"Ushka...when the campaign against the Iron Horde is over, where will you go?" he asked meekly. "Will you stay here?"

Forcing a smile of her own, she appeared deep in thought for a moment before answering. "I really don't understand how this whole alternate timeline thing works,"'she started, choosing her words carefully. "All I know is what is in front of me; the here and now. And here, now, we have a decent amount of customers coming in even during the weekends. My attachment isn't to a specific place; it's to wherever we can make a living," she said in reference to the younger workers she treated like children.

"So even if ya stay in another timeline?"

"Makes no difference to me," she replied while shaking her head.

The silence drifted in again, and he saw no other way to make proper amends before he left. He had done so at the grave of Jarinta, as well as with the friends he would be seeing in Ratchet such as Valmar and the friends he wasn't so sure of whether he'd ever see them again or not such as Toruk. Ushka was different from them all. She deserved a little less formality.

"Ushka, I gotta ask...and please, tell me the truth," he whispered despite them being alone. "Dya think that I'm, ya know...bailing out too early?"

Not understanding his question or his apprehension, she began discussing current events in an animated fashion. "No, of course not, Khujand. The conditions for your parole were a year's service and you did exactly that. You even helped kill Blackhand; you more than did your part," she chortled. "Plus, the campaign against the Iron Horde is really winding down; I don't think they have that much fight left in them."

"Uh...well, Ushka, I meant my time here, with ya and tha inn," he stammered uncomfortably.

"What do you mean?" she asked sincerely, truly not seeming to understand what his point was.

"Ushka, ya took me in. I was one week out of prison, just a wanderin' soldier. Ya didn't know me, ya didn't know if ya could trust me, and ya gave me a bed and a job. And those two things are tha most basic things a person needs ta live." He had to resist placing his hand on hers, realizing that she was a far cry from the touchy feely type. "Dya feel like I exploited ya generosity?"

Though she never mothered or babied anybody, she did flash him a smile that he felt was reassuring. "Khujand, this is what I do. It's what I know. Every one of you here has a story, usually one that isn't pleasant, that lead you to this inn. And when you're gone, your bunk will likely be taken by someone else trying to get back on their feet." She leaned back as if the short, brief sentence was her entire piece and the matter was closed. "You accepted my help, and you helped right back. And I couldn't be happier than to see you move on."

In spite of her kind words, he didn't quite feel all the tension leave him. Perhaps it would have been easier if she resented him, or held something against him for trotting in to her establishment for a warm place to stay like a dog in the alley. That she seemed fully content for him to just up and leave felt anticlimactic.

Picking up her novel again, she looked at the surface of the table and for the first time in a year, he saw a glint in her eye. It was very faint, very subtle, but very real. And when she spoke, her sadness would have been concealed from anyone else who didn't know her that well.

"Go on now, your fiancé will be waiting for you at Broken Horn. Enjoy your life after war." Looking at him one last time with a softness that made him feel like he was at the home he'd lost upon his identity switch, she let him see the full extent of how difficult their parting was for her as well. "I hate long goodbyes. Come on, off with you. It's time to move on."

She began to read her novel again, and he didn't prod for anything more. He would have loved to chat more, but after all she had done, he couldn't help but oblige. If she didn't want to drag things out, he had no right to force her.

Rising and walking over to his bags slowly, he watched her back as he tried to take the place in for the last time. Much like the village he had been born in or the Lost Isle he had spent his adolescence on, there would be no way to ever visit this place again. It had shaped him in so many ways, yet like Jarinta, would live on only as a memory.

Khujand picked up his bags, fingering the necklace Cecilia had given him. It would take some work to reconcile his moving on to a happy new life while still remembering this period fondly without feeling sad. And when he heard what he could have sworn to be a sniffle from Ushka, it became too overwhelming for him, and he made his final exit.


	2. Set Sail

The wind whipped through Cecilia's long azure hair even as their flying mounts decreased in speed, though she had an easier time hearing Irien as they descended toward their destination.

"Is that him?" her younger counterpart shouted across the air.

Due both to her nocturnal nature and her past drug abuse, Cecilia could see well enough at night but not so well during the daytime. The glow typical to night elves had partially faded from her eyes, but rather than weakening her nightvision, it simply caused her trouble when there was too much ambient light. Synthetic narcotics were still a new invention, and their exact effects on elven biology weren't understood well aside from the fact that they couldn't withstand the effects as well as the short lived races.

Cecilia shook the thoughts out of her head, trying to focus on the present and the positive. Straining her eyes, she could just barely make out the shapes of Broken Horn Village. It was more of a town now, mostly local orcs from Draenor with a few additions from Azeroth, and the majority of the buildings had existed even before the Dark Portal opened up. Cecilia knew; during her time protecting the Steamwheedle postal workers, she had visited most of the major settlements in Gorgrond and Talador as well as quite a few in other regions. While some Azerothian adventurers bore hostility to all members of races associated with the Alliance, some were able to look past that to her neutrality. In the case of native orcs from Draenor such as the Laughing Skull, few knew or cared about the factional conflicts on other planets. Broken Horn was, for the most part, a breath of fresh air compared to other places she'd visited accompanying cartel caravans such as Vol'jin's Pride.

"I think we just flew over the inn," Cecilia called out as their mounts circled and lowered in altitude, seeking confirmation that she had seen the town properly.

"Yep, and there's the flight point ahead of us," Irien replied while standing up over the saddle to get a better look. "Yes, that's definitely him! He beat us here!"

Cecilia's younger companion spoke with an enthusiasm that was heartening. They had been best friends for so long, and due to rejection issues with her mother, Irien could be a bit clingy around the older Kaldorei female. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that they would always be living together in some capacity, both of them not so much outcasts from night elf society as willing exiles. They were inseperable, and Irien could occasionally be standoffish when meeting new additions to their group of friends. That the young Kaldorei sharpshooter had taken to Khujand's presence so well made their odd surrogate family work out even better.

Sure enough, as the insectoids neared the ground, Cecilia could already see the vibrant scarlet mane poking up over the heads of everyone else in the area. He'd changed out of the furs he always had to wear in Frostfire - given their focus on saving money, he'd probably sold them already - but he never moved from the flight point where she would be arriving after that. She knew he wouldn't. Despite all the differences in their cultures, experiences and...well, ages, he was just as attached as her. She actually would have felt a bit disappointed had he not been waiting at that very spot like she would have been.

He had already stood, less stooped than the other Darkspear men from habit; hard labor often requires one to arch one's back, and he had done plenty of it in prison. But if he was truly there in front of her, she knew all of those difficulties of the past were over. As hide the color of the sky flashed at her out from under his tribal armor made from wood and animal bone, nothing caught her eye more than the parchment in his hands. Even though she couldn't see well enough to read it from up in the air, she knew it was the document proving his release from parole. Her fiancé was now a free man.

As her mount landed, the flight mistress helped Cecilia to unbuckle her safety straps and she quickly flung off her goggles. Unobstructed, her day vision wasn't so bad when focusing on things nearby, and when he removed the wooden voodoo mask she could see the twinkle in his lightly glowing red eyes.

Tossing elven social mores about propriety out the window, she grinned wide and ran to him, leaping into his arms and even wrapping her armored legs around his waist as she giggled like a youthful two thousand year old. She ignored the stares of a group of confused blood elf travelers nearby as her fiance laughed back, spinning around in a circle one time before setting her down. They held on to each other for a moment, neither of them noticing that Irien had already dismounted and had the flight attendant lay their bags next to Khujand's.

After another moment of gazing at each other in an overly sappy, mildly inappropriate way, they were snapped out of it when Irien snatched the parchment out of Khujand's hands and read the Orcish script aloud.

 _Let it be known that [Khujand of the Darkspear], released prisoner #348T, has completed his parole of [one year]'s duration without incident. He shall hereby be allowed freedom of passage back to Azeroth as any other free individual without restriction or penalty. Should he commit any crime, he is to be tried as a free man from this point on, unaffected by prior conviction and time served._

 _High Warlord Volrath  
Warspear, Ashran  
March 24th, year 32_

Cecilia had already thrown her arms around his neck in another hug by the time Irien had finished reading, and even the sharpshooter grabbed him around the waist and gave him a bit of a squeeze. Waiting for his parole to finish delayed their departure by another two months beyond what the two Kaldorei had originally planned, but Irien didn't mind. Khujand had become some sort of cross between a brother she never had and a father who actually cared about her, plus the income he added helped them to not only pay off the duplex early but also have some extra money saved in their Steamwheedle company accounts that would be waiting for them in Ratchet. All in all, Cecilia's relationship with him had not only worked out but had even made all of their lives a lot easier.

"Welcome to the outside," Irien joked in reference to being out of prison.

The three of them stepped off to the side to make way for other patrons of the flight point and to avoid drawing any more odd stares from passersby as they spoke. "My heart's racin' just thinkin' about it now," he practically hummed in Darnassian as he collected all six bags. "Ya bags're all light."

"We shipped most of our personal belongings with Yara and Kiul back when they left two months ago," Cecilia explained as the three of them traversed the wide dirt road winding through the main part of the town on a high oceanside cliff. "Yara holds a management level grade code within the cartel, so they were allotted more luggage space and handlers than they needed for the trip back through the Exodar."

"So this couple, tha Darkspear lady married ta tha human..."

"Sonja and Erikur. They'll be our neighbors there in Ratchet."

"Right, ya said they gotta key ta our house, right?"

"Don't worry, they picked up our bags for us at the docks and dropped them off inside the duplex," Irien chimed in as the trio turned a corner around a bakery and ignored the shocked gawking from an odious Orc on the street corner. "They sent a letter with a cartel rep through the portal and all the way here to Gorgrond once Yara and Kiul arrived."

"They sound like a swell couple ta know. Did they meet Valmar yet?" Khujand asked in regard to the undead Forsaken he had served his prison sentence with, just another part of their new social support on Azeroth.

"They met him and helped him find a private room to rent at a great price," Cecilia replied, patting a native Laughing Skull child on the head as they passed by a family home. Like most native orcs, the mother knew nothing of the conflicts of other planets and even waved politely to the two elven women, despite the Azerothian Orc woman a few paces away tutting her tongue. "They've actually asked him to work as the Ratchet warrior trainer for the morning shift, too."

Khujand raised a hairless brow, almost slightly embarrassed. "That's supposed to be ya other part time job, Cici."

"No, no, it works out," she said while squeezing his bicep. He was rather sensitive toward how his actions affected others, and she guessed that he might be worried he cost her a job by sending his friend there first. "They know I don't like being awake during the day, so I will start in the late afternoon. I'll also work as the Ratchet riding trainer primarily, and only train warriors if the need arises at night. The city is boo-ooming, so they'll need all the help they can get."

"Boomin' like how?" he asked curiously as they began to descend the earthen ramp that led to a series of laborers' huts carved into the sheer cliff face overlooking the ocean. "I ain't been ta tha town, but last I remember from tha Barrens, most of Ratchet's population is transient."

"Oh, they still have tons of transients and expatriate workers, believe me," Irien laughed.

The conversation skipped a beat as the three of them waited patiently for a group of tauren laborers hauling solid coral up the earthen ramp. The ramparts at the front of the town had been reinforced at the bottom with the material, which weighed far more than cement. The team pulled it by thick ropes and occupied most of the width of the ramp, and were led by an over enthusiastic half human half orc who looked like an orange skinned version of Fitzy. To Cecilia's delight, the tauren - whose people had held good relations with hers for millennia - either nodded to the odd group congenially or simply focused on their work, eschewing the impolite stares a handful of other members of the Horde had sent their way in the town.

Once the work crew had passed, the three started on their way down again. They could already see the neutral passenger ship approaching the docks, signaling that they were just in time for an early checkin.

"So anyway, the population at Ratchet exploded after the Seige of Orgrimmar," Irien explained during their descent. "Trade relations finally opened up between the Alliance and the Horde, and the neutral factions jumped right in. Now with all the cooperation going on here on Draenor, it's a lot more common to see people doing business with each other."

"But they still can't actually live among each other, which is why neutral cities like those run by Steamwheedle are so important." Cecilia almost felt like a shill towing the company line, but it was undeniable: the goblin cartels, through their greed, had actually sped up a worldwide peace process, and she always felt proud to be a part of that. "So the neighborhood where our duplex is? The brand new one? There are two more neighborhoods in Ratchet just like it, along with all the shops and services that civilian life requires."

Grinning ear to ear, Khujand nearly swooned. "I still can't believe that we're gonna be livin' there, in a modern city with indoor plumbing and a grocery store and all."

"Believe it," Cecilia almost ordered after looking him in the eye in a mushy way again.

By the time they had finished going over further details of their arrival, they had already reached the brand new Broken Horn docks. The passenger ship was huge, likely the size of the large goblin passenger ships Cecilia had spent years working on with Irien and Sonja. Though she hadn't sailed in over a year, the knowledge never left her and she quite enjoyed the thought of being on a ship again. The large wooden ship looked new itself and was likely built by adventurers from Azeroth, but it did not bear the Steamwheedle insignia. The goblin cartel wasn't the only contract group providing services, which was a good thing - more competition always helped everyone to improve.

By the time the deckhands had already exited for their own breaks or maintenance work, a few patrons had already formed a line behind an orc functioning as the ticketmaster. The line moved relatively quickly, and since there were only seven people ahead of them, Cecilia didn't expect the wait to be long.

Just a few people ahead of them stood another Darkspear troll. The other man stooped over much more and had a full, long pair of tusks that had been carved. Although Khujand's tusks had been clipped in prison as a mark of shame, she realized when the other man turned around how much she preferred him that way; the two sharp, weaponlike decorations seemed like they would get in the way. Did other trolls even go down on their women?

Stopping that line of private thinking while they were in public, she noticed the man shoot Khujand an odd look before turning back around to buy his ticket. Her fiancé grunted but made no issue of it, and the three of them reached the front of the line before they knew it.

"We already have our own room booked on behalf of the Steamwheedle Cartel," Irien proclaimed in her fluent Orcish while placing her copy of an order form on the ticketmaster's desk.

The young man appeared surprised at how well the elf spoke his language at first, but quickly put his professional face back on. "Technically you didn't have to wait in line; you could have just boarded...well, all the same, welcome aboard." He wet a wooden stamp on an ink pad and validated their boarding pass and room reservation. "Two beds, one double king size. Unfortunately we had someone store fruit on the last voyage and it leaked out into the storage area. Five of your bags can be stored but the sixth will need to remain in your cabin."

"Aw, seriously?" Khujand complained.

"No, no, it will work out. We can use your smaller bag and switch some stuff around," Irien countered.

"What about all this armor we're wearin' now?"

"We can take all our clothes, valuables and documents out of my bag," Cecilia suggested, trying to find a solution rather than complain. "And anything in your bag that isn't necessary, we can put it with our armor and other things."

His red eyes lit up a little more, and she could tell he had been pulled out of complaint mode - something she'd been trying to work on with him for a while. "Alright...yeah, I guess it makes sense." He turned to the ticketmaster as he shifted all six bags around. "Thank ya, sir. Have a good one."

The young man nodded as the three walked down the pier, ascending the entry ramp and having their document checked by an official before entering. Most of the upper deck was covered in case of rain, and a few crewmembers were already busy cleaning up from what looked like a dinner party the night before. It was a beautiful ship but was orc sized, and all three of them had to duck underneath the doorway as they descended to the lower decks.

The halls were cramped, and although the workmanship was excellent and sturdy, it seemed like they had crammed as many passenger rooms as they could. Cecilia could hear a number of voices coming from the rooms as they walked, and like many other passenger ships she assumed this one featured many patrons splitting rooms with up to eight other people. By the time they found theirs, her heavy plate armor had already begun to chafe and she was just about ready to toss it off in the hallway.

Once inside the room, they were surprised by the lack of space.

"Our beds are more or less touching each other," Irien sighed as she collapsed face first on her own. Her high powered hunting rifle was still strapped to her back and the safety was off, but she didn't seem to care.

Khujand laid the bags down on the bed Cecilia would be sharing with him and found that he was forced to slouch as much as most Darkspear men did due to the low ceiling. The space between the beds, the door and the closet was just barely enough space for Cecilia and her fiancé to stand, and when they closed the door the lack of windows made the place feel even more cramped. The engine room and storage area were below them and another floor of rooms was above them, adding to the ambient noise. After Khujand opened the bags, the three of them sat for a moment.

"Alright Irien, you have to change in the closet," Cecilia ordered as she started taking her armor off right there.

"Khujand, I need you to go change in the closet," Irien spoke into her pillow, attempting to pass the command down the line.

"I can't fit inside there."

"Come on, let's get changed so we can dump the bags and relax!" Cecilia then actually removed Irien's gun, gunstrap and ammo bag and pulled the younger elf up.

"My gun stays here in the cabin with us!" she protested while grabbing a set of human made, very international style clothing and practically falling inside the closet.

"That actually works out. Khujand's weapons are too oblong to fit in any of the bags, so they would go fine with your gun under the bed," Cecilia replied. Her armor was quickly off and into its case. Although it was the heaviest thing they would have to carry, it was also very compact and easy to store.

Sliding his double ended fel glaive and the long kodo femur he used as a club under the bed, Khujand set about packing his own, much lighter armor in a bag and throwing a similarly international style human made set of clothes on. All of them disliked the way that humans tended to dress, seeing as how their clothes emphasized style more than comfort and were usually too tight in the wrong places. But they were cheap and widely available, and for their voyages through mostly Alliance territory on the first leg, they would need it.

From the bag they would be keeping with them, he pulled out a metal lockbox. "Our ID cards are in here, yeah?" he asked while flicking it open.

"Those along with the neutrality pass we got you. They're going to need to see that at Stormshield and then again when we port to Stormwind," Irien said from inside the closet while banging some part of her body against the wall accidentally.

He snorted through his long nose in skepticism. "I still got some misgivins about travelin' straight through tha Alliance capitol city," he grumbled lightly. "When we get ta Orgrimmar, neither of ya need any neutrality pass or special registration. Ya Steamwheedle ID cards are enough."

"We got plenty of dirty looks here in this Horde town, so don't pretend like prejudice is specific only to one faction!" Irien's reply was fast and sure.

In spite of the fact that she had formally dropped out of the Alliance like Cecilia herself, her night elf pride did cause her to have a certain measure of animosity to the Horde. For his part, Khujand no longer considered himself a member of the Horde or any faction, but could play the card when he needed to; his race allowed him to move through the faction's territory without being carded. Still, Irien enjoyed the occasional debate with him about politics, and he usually just tried to avoid it at all costs.

"Ya got dirty looks, yeah. I'm afraid of a little more than that goin' through the city of Variant Renn."

"Manny already arranged for your portal in Stormshield and the Steamwheedle voyage from the Port of Stormwind," Cecilia said calmly as she finished putting her own clothes on. "Legally, you have every right - honey, put your parole papers in the lockbox."

"Right, almost forgot."

"You have every right to undertake this trip. Considering that the Zandalari declared war on literally the entire planet a few years ago and yet they now have an embassy in Stormwind again, it really shouldn't be a big deal for a jungle troll to literally stay in Stormwind only long enough for transit anyway."

Irien had already finished dressing and exited the closet, packing her own armor in with everyone else's. They now had five bags full of spare clothing, trinkets and souvenirs from an unspoiled Draenor, various travel items, Cecilia's weapons and shield and everybody's armor. The sixth bag contained the lockbox with all their most important documents, underwear and socks and their money. They quickly stuffed it all underneath the bed along with Irien and Khujand's weapons. It all appeared ready to go.

"I can go grab us some food from the canteen; I smell them cooking already. Dear, you'll need to get the bags to the storage area below."

"And I need to take a piss," Irien snarked as she left the room and strolled up the hall. They both had a good laugh at her boorish comment, and Cecilia was about to leave before Khujand stopped her.

"Just one minute," he asked while fiddling around with something metal in the bag that would be staying with them.

"What is it?"

"Listen...we talked about this a lot...about how many night elves forgot how ta perform a proper weddin' and ya don't really expect one, yeah?"

She grasped the back of his arm, groping his tricep and pulling him close. "I am so ready to be married, dear. We can just tell people we are, I don't need a ceremony."

"No, that ain't what I'm gettin' at," he chuckled, and that's when she saw the familiar flash of gold.

"Oh, the wedding bands!" she beamed while holding out her left arm. It wasn't elven custom to use the left and various troll tribes all had varying customs, so they chose the left just because.

Two coils made of solid gold shone to her in the dark, unlit room - she and Irien preferred the dark and Khujand had gotten used to it. They were Darkspear handiwork, apparently made by a goldsmith he had met in Nagrand. Molded in the shape of serpents, they had been forged exactly to the measurements of her and his forearms, and the gold was malleable enough for them to slip them on and off rather easily.

She held her limp wrist out daintily, a running joke between them given how many Iron Horde troops, Sargeras cultists and general bad guys he'd seen her slaughter with those hands. He slipped her coil over her hand and onto her forearm gingerly, and earned raucous laughter from her by holding his wrist out just as limply for her to do the same. They had been planning to start wearing them for a while, but now that they were finally on, Cecilia felt her heart flutter.

"Hard to believe that I waited twelve thousand years for you to be born," she chortled while placing the palm of her hand against his.

"Believe it," he stated in a mock serious tone, fighting off a grin as she smirked up at him.

"I'm being serious. For so long, I..." She felt the emotion well up inside of her for a moment and hesitated, unable to finish the sentence, and that was all it took for him to pull her close to him again.

"I know, girl, I know." He rubbed her back lightly and she chortled again with her mouth closed.

She knew that he really did understand, and there was no need to elaborate. She'd waited so long to settle down, and wouldn't have to do so alone. They locked up their room and went about their separate tasks, eager to rest and continue their final journey to a quiet life.

* * *

The ambient noise proved to be rather soothing that day. It was late afternoon by the time they had eaten and gotten to bed, and for sure their sleeping schedules would be messed up for a while. Cecilia and Irien both preferred to wake up in the afternoon, and Khujand himself had started to acclimate to such a schedule. The ambient noise combined with the rocking of the ship felt so soothing, however, that none of them experienced any difficulty getting asleep.

Due to the proximity of the beds, Cecilia ended up sleeping almost on top of Irien even while Khujand was spooning her. True to her matriarchal roots, she had shoved him against the wall and placed herself in the middle, too jealous to allow even their best friend to see him clearly when they slept. He found it endearing, though most men of his race would have found it overbearing. And as he inhaled the scent of sandalwood wafting off of her hair, he couldn't stop thinking of how lucky he was to have found her as he drifted off.

Once they were all in bed and under their respective covers, the reality of how far they had come started to dawn on him. Good thing he was already lying down, he thought, as his head was almost reeling from the realization.

He was supposed to be in prison another year, no friends, no family, not a soul in the world who even knew or cared that he existed. After busting Cecilia out of prison almost nine years prior, he quickly repressed the memory of his good deed and proceeded to wallow in the misery of knowing the atrocities he had committed. He bumped into numerous people from his former life on Draenor - among adventurers, anybody who was anybody was there. But her...he bumped into her within his first month of landing. And now they would retire from war and fighting together, after spans of time that felt relatively long to them both. He dreamed it, and he briefly woke up thinking about it.

The ambient noise still provided a pleasant background, even when he woke up on his own. He could still feel her there in his arms, reminding him once again that this life wasn't just a mocking dream he would wake up from. It felt cheesy to remind himself of that over and over again so many times, but he felt reassured by it.

That is, until the first rumble shook the bed.

He couldn't hear it over the engine room below, but he could definitely feel it. Neither Cecilia nor Irien woke up, but he saw no reason to wake them up just yet. Perhaps the engine was blowing off some steam, or a fat man slipped and fell below the deck. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of sandalwood again, waiting to see if-

There it was again. Harder this time. The two women began to stir.

"Khuj...knock it off," Irien mumbled without opening her eyes as she pulled her covers up over her face.

Breathing deeply, Cecilia appeared serene and peaceful as always as her back pressed in to his chest, and he fought to avoid the swoon and focus on the shouting he could vaguely hear from some other part of the ship. Multiple frantic voices sounded off, partially drowned out by the engine and the waves but audible to his long ears.

"Somethin's wrong," he said in a voice just a little bit louder than a whisper.

The retired sentinel that was something between a fiancé and a wife and the retired ranger that was a best friend both opened their eyes in a flash, their centuries of training kicking in. Irien was the first to sit up, cupping a hand over her ear as she listened intently to whatever was going on.

The loud boom sounded off first, much louder than the engine, too loud to be from another ship. Images of the canon he'd seen on the top deck of the boat flashed through his mind.

"We're under attack!" Cecilia rasped as she jumped out of bed and laced her shoes on in a period of three seconds, followed by Irien after five seconds.

Khujand fumbled with his own two toed shoes, trying to keep up with them as they pulled what they could out from under the bed. His blood was pumping hard and uncomfortably as they all leapt out of bed at a second's notice. There was no transition period to stretch or clear his mind, and his eyes felt salty as if they had been woken up way too early.

"Is there time ta collect our gear from below?" he asked just as he finished preparing himself.

"No. We check things out as we are. If they attack, we ditch the bags and buy new gear once we're safe and sound at home." Her expression hardened in a way that would have given the Titans themselves pause, and he knew she had been irritated as all hell. "We worked too damn hard for this; we will not allow things to be spoiled now-"

 _::CRASH::_

Caught off guard, Irien had to grab Cecilia to remain upright when the entire boat was rocked. It reminded Khujand of the earthquake just before the Lost Isles sunk and his people fled with the orcs to Kalimdor, and then a cacophony of other sounds started up - chief among them the flow of water. Not even bothering to think of the cause, he merely braced himself against the wall and tried to ignore the sudden jump in his heart rate.

Cecilia took up Khujand's glaive, Irien readied her rifle and ammo bag and Khujand picked up his club and tied the travel bag over his shoulder. The entire ship creaked loudly as he felt it tilt, and to their horror, the noise from the engine stopped. Very little scared him in life - physically, few living beings could threaten him or Cecilia and emotionally, she was his pillar of support. But at that moment, in a beseiged ship on the ocean of an alien planet, he did actually feel quite scared.

Opening the door slowly, the three of them peeked around the corners scanning the hallway as a team. Immediately, all three of them saw the gushing water running their way from the end of the hall that had been slanted downward. Far, far over at the opposite end of the hall, starlight shone through a crack in the hull and illuminated a smoldering cannonball as the source of the water flow made itself apparent.

His fiancé neither wasted time nor minced words as she stepped out into the hallway first and turned to face him.

"The ship is sinking!"


	3. Battleship Sunk

Cecilia ran over a mental list of safety procedures for shipwrecks in her head as the three of them left their room. Neither she nor Irien had ever had a ship sunk during their years of service, though they had seen pirate ships be sunk - all goblin ships, passenger or cargo, were armed. She'd observed how one end often tended to dip beneath the surface first, leaving the other end to stick out for a period of time depending on how large the vessel was. Judging by this one, she thought...

"We're at the halfway point of the ship; we still have time to jump overboard!" she commanded as they rushed around a corner as quickly as they could.

Most of the other passengers weren't in their rooms. It was early evening and she knew they would all be enjoying themselves up on the top deck, drinking and chatting the night away. Just their luck: the halls were so narrow that the three of them could barely fit as they ran up two floors. The whole place felt cramped as they bolted down the hallway, and when the ship was rocked again, they all stumbled momentarily.

:: _BOOM_ ::

The whole vessel slanted to the right, to the point where the inner wall was almost beneath them and all she could see through the portholes as they whizzed by was the night sky.

"So our other bags are pretty much lost, then?" Irien stated more than asked as they reached the stairwell.

"Khuj has the lockbox, and it's waterproof. That's all that matters right now." Cecilia's voice was calm and commanding. After all her millennia of experience in war, she found this no more than an irritant for her personally.

She did fear for her fiancé and best friend, though. The sentinel within her had the protective instincts of a mother nightsabre, and all she could wonder, as they literally climbed the slanted staircase, was how well they could swim.

:: _BOOM_ ::

Shots rang out in the distance as two other ships exchanged canon fire. The sounds weren't so far away, and as Cecilia realized they were in the midst of a naval battle involving multiple ships, she actually felt an upswell of hope.

"They likely won't pay attention to a few random escapees," she huffed as she had to jump up and grab ahold of the doorframe leading out to open air. "We won't be worth their attention."

"We're abandonin' ship?" Khujand asked while giving Irien a lift up to Cecilia's waiting hands at the top railing, his voice nearly drowned out by all the screaming passengers just outside the door.

"The hull has been breached; this is one of the emergency situations they warned us about."

"I never thought we'd actually need to use that training!" Irien chimed in just as she managed to climb out the doorway. "I think we were the only ones below deck!"

Knowing that her fiancé could climb out on his own, Cecilia followed Irien out to watch the near riot on the top deck. Everyone huddled at the port side of the deck as it dipped down toward the ocean, people of various races looking ready to lynch the first mate. A clamour of multiple languages rang out and Cecilia strained her ears to hear what the uproar was about.

It didn't take long.

"The captain abandoned the ship and took all the lifeboats!" she gasped as Khujand climbed up with them.

"Shitfaced McGee, look at the battle!" Irien burst out while pointing due south.

Under the starlight, Cecilia not only saw perfectly but for extremely long distances. She had no trouble focusing on the carnage that night, and quickly realized what had happened.

All around them, four more ships traded canon fire among themselves as fires raged on board each. Two of them were the heavily armored battleships characteristic of the Iron Horde, but much of the metal plating had been blasted off and the two appeared ready to sink themselves. Relatively new looking ships - one bearing the insignia of the Alliance and the other of the Horde - pounded the two Iron Horde ships as well as each other. It was a hopeless, pointless mayhem that could not possibly bear any winners; Cecilia had served in her own people's army for long enough to gauge such things within the first few minutes of a battle. Another loud groan from their slowly sinking passenger ship tore her attention away from the fires raging over the ocean and toward the lights of Ashran off in the distance.

"It's only about a mile and a half to the shoreline; we're close enough to make it!" she commanded while crawling upward toward the bow of the ship.

Her fiancé and best friend, while both seasoned fighters in their own right, fell in line behind the more experienced woman despite their obvious misgivings. Once again taking the role of commander in their little family, she led them past all the rioting passengers to the safest point to dive from, fielding their nervous questions as they went.

"What about tha other passengers?" Khujand asked while crouching low to avoid sliding.

"Be realistic: we're in the middle of the ocean. This isn't the sort of case where we save the day and rescue a ship full of people. We swim for it, or we die."

"What about stray fire from the skirmish? Or sharks?" asked Irien in a strained voice that Cecilia could tell masked a great deal of apprehension despite the sharpshooter's extensive sailing experience.

"We have a better chance with all that than we do waiting for a miracle," Cecilia said confidently as she reached the bow and grabbed ahold of the railing, reaching to pull Irien up with her. "Strap your weapons on tight, and Khujand, you hold on to that lockbox for dear life, and we all swim right up against each other!"

More canon fire rang out as one of the two Iron Horde ships visibly dipped deep beneath the waves at the stern. A scream rang out as the passengers shoved the human first mate overboard, a makeshift noose from docking ropes around his neck. Even in her battle worn heart, Cecilia felt a twinge of sympathy for the probably doomed people on board, but with no life boats and hostile waters stretching further than most of those civilians could likely swim, there was little she could do other than shut the thoughts out and focus on leading her loved ones to safety.

She looked out over the bow of the ship toward Ashran again. A straight line laid before them all the way to the shoreline, and the remaining ships were almost equidistant to the southeast. A straight eastern swim would land them on the southern shore of the island and sufficiently close to Stormshield, their ultimate destination for the portal back to Azeroth. Irien and Khujand stayed silent as she surveyed the swim and the depth of the dive below.

"It's only a ten yard drop to the surface," she explained as she hardened her resolve and spoke as clearly as she thought. "Straighten up, dive feet first, and follow my lead!"

She only waited a second for them to affirm before she leapt overboard, not wanting to waste any more time. Her heart raced as her body dropped toward the water, though not from the anticipation of the dangers of the deep. Cecilia had primarily served in the Sentinel Army during her millennia of the Long Vigil, but she also had a few centuries experience in the Sentinel Navy (which did exist despite jokes within the Alliance to the contrary) and even the Sentinel Air Force. Abandoning a sinking ship in the midst of a naval battle was not something she ever experienced, but it was not something that overshadowed her own real experiences with emergency situations either. No, her heart raced in anxiety over how her two companions would fare.

She hit the water flawlessly and jutted below the waves a few feet before allowing herself to float back up to conserve energy. Once her fiancé' glaive was securely strapped to her back again, she turned half a second later to make sure she had landed a sufficient distance away to avoid the undertow.

When she saw she had landed in as fine a spot as any, she looked up to notice Khujand hesitating for a moment. Irien at least had sailing experience; Khujand could swim but was totally out of his element in a situation like this. Knowing this wasn't the time to console him and hold his hand, she gave a Kaldorei hand signal to Irien for shoving. Khujand had already stepped over the railing, and once he was on less secure footing Irien reared back and pushed his 500 pound body off the best she could.

"Whoa!" he shouted before straightening up at the last minute, and Cecilia was relieved to see that he had kept the bag containing the lockbox securely underneath his arm.

He hit the water with such force that the wave washed over her temporarily, and she pushed forward briefly to grab his hand and let him know she was there. He mentally recovered surprisingly quick, and very soon had turned around for Irien. She didn't wait long, and followed just as an explosion rocked the deck. There was no way to tell what had caused it - Cecilia understood mathematics well, but knew little of the engineering used by the younger races - but it was enough to punctuate the necessity of their leaving the ship behind, whether there were still people stranded there or not.

"Take big strokes and don't strain your necks!" Cecilia shouted over the roar of the waves and the canons in the distance. "Stay close together and we can make it if we keep an even pace!"

Silently, they followed her orders. Although night elves could see well in the darkness of night, there was no telling what lied beneath them in the waters below, and even Cecilia's stalwart, twelve thousand year old heart finally beat a bit faster in fear of what could be watching them.

For half an hour they swam at a medium speed in order to avoid tiring themselves out. The entire time, they encountered no sharks, Draenor fish or sea monsters as they swam, nor did they spot any of the lifeboats or other survivors. It was a long, stressful, harrowing half hour, and a few stray cannonballs did break the surface of the water perhaps fifty or more yards away from them, but it was otherwise uneventful.

Before they knew it, they had reached the shoreline, crawling on their hands and knees as they all took turns spitting up water and actually laughing in disbelief at how fast it had all happened.

Irien was the first to get down to business. "Khuj, the lockbox!"

"It's here, I got it," he reassured them while lying on his back and shaking the rest of the water off of it. "Lemme see if everythin' is intact."

"Wait, better dry it off first," Cecilia interrupted as she flipped over to feel the damp beach sand on her back as well.

Fire filled the entire dark horizon a mile away as the second Iron Horde ship exploded, though none of them cared at that point. They were alive, and there would be more adventurers to take their places and ensure that Hellscream's forces continued to be exploded like that. Cecilia closed her eyes and grinned ear to ear, listening to the waves lap at her waterlogged shoes and her fiancé scrub the surface of the lockbox off in the patches of dry sand near them. True, a large number of innocent people may have died, and the good for nothing captain of the ship had left them all, but she and the most important people to her were still alive. That's all that mattered at that time.

Khujand flipped the lockbox open and shared a sigh of relief with Irien. "It's all good and dry. Tha ID cards, my parole paper, our neutrality passes, all of it."

"Check the gold!" Irien blurted out while yanking the bag from him and checking herself.

"I hear it clinking," Cecilia beamed quietly while slowing her heart rate with some meditation techniques she had been taught by the renowned Ralo'shan long before the woman had become known as the Eternal Watcher.

The three of them panted and took turns rolling around in the sand, chatting and chuckling about how well they had handled the situation as they rested up. Since they were already on Ashran and the Alliance and Horde ships backed off from each other, they should have been able to take their time hiking eastward to Stormshield.

Should have.

Her ancient, alert ears picked up the footsteps first, but Irien and Khujand quickly noticed as well. By the time all three of them had sat up, she had already been cursing herself for letting her guard down. The haughty laugh came so soon that she wondered how she could have let them be surprised so easily.

"Looks like we have ourselves a traitor here," laughed a native speaker of Orcish from behind them.

Keeping her cool, she only turned around in the sand, twitching her ears in a silent signal to Khujand to prevent him from leaping up at the taunt obviously directed his way. All around them stood about a dozen soldiers of varying Horde races, all of them wearing guild tabard that read "PvP" in what had to be the lamest naming convention ever. The speaker, a medium build orc about a head shorter than Irien, held an axe gingerly as he gloated above them. As if to add to the tackiness of the group, he actually wore a bowler had instead of a helmet and wore a monocle be probably didn't actually need for any sort of medical reasons.

"It's so sad to see who could have been a fine servitor of the Horde cavorting with the enemy."

The trio all remained silent as Irien and Khujand waited for Cecilia to make the first move. An assortment of mostly warriors formed a circle around three sides of them, leaving the ocean to their backs. Running a mental count that only took her a quarter of a second, Cecilia noticed two tauren, two undead, six orcs including the leader, a blood elf and another troll. The leader continued prattling on about blood and thunder or some other rubbish like that as Irien whispered in Darnassian out of one side of her mouth.

"My gun is waterlogged; it would take me at least five seconds to clear it out and two more to load the first few rounds."

"We can buy you that time."

Khujand grunted in affirmation just as the leader cut them off, trying to make a spectacle of jumping three unarmored castaways.

"Shield brothers and sisters, who are we?!" bellowed the guild leader.

"Pee vee pee!" the eleven others cried out in unison.

"What do we do?"

"Pee vee pee!"

"Why do we-"

"Gibbety gabbety goo!" Cecilia understood Khujand growl in Zandali as he sprang up, causing all twelve of the antagonists to jump back.

Fists pumping, legs springing up and down, Khujand began performing a tribal war dance right there in the middle of a life or death situation. Although he was as bad a dancer as Cecilia when they tried to groove for fun, his war dance actually wasn't that bad given how much he had practiced it with the elders of his tribe. Irien had never seen it before, but Cecila had explained it to her enough times for the sharpshooter to know exactly what it was.

After their initial shock, the monocle wearing leader sneered and then started to laugh. "Oh, look everyone! The traitor is trying to win a dance off!" A pompous, self assured arrogance filled the air as eleven of the soldiers roared in laughter. One of the tauren even hoofed it up right in front of Khujand, letting his weapon fall at ease to his side and waving in front of the jungle troll as if to snap him out of an embarrassing daydream.

The twelfth guild member, the only troll in the group, wasn't laughing. By the time his eyes grew wide, the fel runes had already begun to glow on the ground beneath Cecilia and Irien's feet and it was too late. "Good lawd, dat be da voodoo!"

The others didn't have time to react. A sense of self assurance uplifted Cecilia as an adrenaline rush pushed her forward toward the bovine warrior harassing her fiancé. She wasn't used to the double bladed fel glaives of the trolls, but she had trained in similar weapons long ago, and she swung Khujand's fel glaive so quickly that the tauren in front of him hadn't even reacted before she sliced its head clean off. Horns and all, the severed head tumbled to the ground right at the feet of the guild leader, who still shared the same defiant, arrogant scowl that the rest of the soldiers save the troll held. Irien began furiously dismantling her rifle and and letting the water drip out, kneeling down and ignoring the soldiers around them as though she had nothing to worry about.

"End them!" the leader commanded as the remaining ten of his underlings rushed forward.

"Ya don' undahstand," warned the enemy troll in an accent much thicker than Khujand's as his comrades ran to certain death. "Dis be da Big Bad Voodoo!"

Banned once the Darkspear joined the Horde and adopted shamanism, the voodoo spell was a mainstay of shadow hunters like Khujand. One by one, the arrows and throwing daggers headed their way disintegrated the moment they passed over the fel runes on the ground, which were glowing to the rhythm of Khujand's dance celebrating life and death. Spinning and chopping recklessly and without worrying for her own defense, Cecilia sent severed limbs flying as the weapons of the soldiers' bounced off of her harmlessly, protected by the sort of black magic she would have shunned only ten years prior.

Several of the soldiers hacked helplessly at Irien as she took her time reassembling her dried off rifle components, not realizing the futility of their efforts as the runes on the ground glowed even more brightly every time their blades bounced off of her skin and clothes. By the time the runes had begun to wear off, she had already reloaded, stood up and fired off several head shots, not needing to watch her back as she aimed.

Cecilia stood in a circle of corpses, swinging the glaive wildly in two hands as bodies fell left and right. The leader of the enemy troops froze in awe, unable to believe that his underlings had been defeated so easily. When the tenth corpse hit the ground, Cecilia felt Khujand's mana fade at the same time that the runes beneath her feet flickered in warning of their imminent dissipation. Taking one final leap, she decapitated the guild leader, watching with grim satisfaction as his tacky bowler hat remained firmly attached to his head while it rolled across the beach. She had barely even broken a sweat by the time the voodoo magic finished running its course.

"Hail to the night!" she proudly proclaimed as a warm, firm three fingered grip wrapped around her arm.

Except the hide color wasn't light azure like her fiancé's.

:: _POP_ ::

"Arghh!" Cecilia cried in pain as her shoulder was dislocated out of the socket by an incredible force.

She spun around only to narrowly dodge the two intact tusks that almost gored her in the neck and upper chest. The violet colored hands grabbed her by both arms as the enemy troll dropped his weapon and lifted his ugly head for another savage thrust. He was a bit thinner than Khujand, but like all of his kind, his thick, three fingered hands possessed a disproportionate grip strength and the seasoned sentinel failed to twist out of his grasp for a counterstrike. Hissing at the excruciating pain in her shoulder and at herself for letting her guard down a second time, she gasped as her fiancé grabbed his fellow troll around the waist and suplexed the violet man backward into the sand. A quick gunshot later and the enemy Darkspear's brains were decorating the beach.

Khujand's brutishly handsome face greeted her with a panicked, emotional look as he cradled her uninjured side.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit-"

"Calm down," she commanded before pushing away from him. Performing the relocation she had done for herself and her fellow warrior women many times before, she gripped the back of her injured shoulder and yanked. "Argh!" Cecilia cried out a second time, louder than before, as it popped back into place.

Irien had already slung her rifle over her shoulder and picked up the glaive for her. "Cici, we couldn't make it fast enough-"

"I'm fine!" she hissed at them both. Her hyper irritability flared up at the pain and anger boiling inside her, and they wisely backed off.

Khujand reached for his glaive after strapping on his club. "Dya want me ta-"

"I said I'm fine," she huffed while taking the glaive back in her good arm. "You can't heal and we have no splint or bandages, so there's nothing we can do. We have to move."

They hesitated just for a moment before silently nodding in assent and lining up on either side of her. The searing pain in her shoulder settled into a throbbing numbness as she turned east and pointed to the lights of Stormshield with the glaive. "It can't be more than a five minute walk. We're so close. We can rest inside."

"There's an infirmary there, and Manny can help us once we pull out Khuj's neutrality pass," Irien tried to reassure herself more than Cecilia as the three of them began to walk.

Once again, they were caught off guard and Cecilia found herself cursing both their exhaustion and bad luck as she detected the presence of several stealthed assailants.

Irien noticed as the same time, and they both shared a knowing look as the three of them stopped halfway to the gates of Stormshield. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," the younger elf whined.

"Looks like we have ourselves a couple of traitors here," a native speaker of Darnassian laughed from straight in front of them.

Just then, six Kaldorei shifted out of a shadowmeld. There were five of her fellow warrior women and a single male, Cecilia counted, and although they were all young for her race, the six of them were likely a match for the twelve Horde soldiers from just two minutes ago due to superior skill. The leader - a teal haired sentinel wearing a guild tabard bearing the ancient elven rune for 'WAR' on it - stepped forward.

"It's so sad to see-"

"Been there, done that, bitch," sneered Irien as she quickly readied her rifle and took aim. "Where the fuck were you dipshits two minutes ago when the Horde dipshits were running amok out here?"

Several of the sentinels hissed, while the single male quickly shifted into saber cat form. Unamused by the vulgarity, the tealheaded leader took another step forward and spun the tri bladed moon glaive attached to her bracer.

"I see you've both adopted the boorish mannerisms of your partner in espionage," the leader stated with an arrogant glare right down the bridge of her nose at the shorter elf pointing a gun at her. Completely unafraid, she motioned for her comrades to step forward as well. "May the Goddess forsake you for your-"

"MOVE, or I'll turn ya inta a maggot!" Khujand bellowed in his crisp, only slightly accented Darnassian, to the absolute shock of the enemy elves.

The six antagonists stopped closing in and collectively gasped. Confusion set in as they all murmured amongst themselves and looked toward the leader for guidance, unsure of how to react.

Seething in anger after her initial surprise, the evil elf grimaced in disgust at Cecilia, noticing the matching golden wedding bands that she and Khujand both wore on their forearms. "You...you...traitorous whore...you-"

"Real creative," Khujand growled over her in Darnassian once more. "Don't like another woman? Call her a whore or a slut or somethin' unoriginal like that. Some quick thinker ya are!" His mocking tone was not lost on her, and the leader grimaced in anger this time.

"End them!" the teal haired leader yelled just as Irien squeezed the trigger of her rifle, sending the loud bang ringing through the air as the leader's ankle was blown out. "Aaaaaaiiiiee!" she screamed as she fell to the ground in a useless heap.

The enemy night elves were must faster than the members of the Horde they had fought earlier. Cecilia had only a split second to fling the fel glaive which, unlike the moon glaives of her people, she knew wouldn't return back to her. She aimed for the nearest sentinel's neck using her good arm, missing narrowly as her injury caused her to telegraph the move. The glaive grazed the silver haired woman's upper arm instead, opening a large gash as the silverhead bit her tongue and fell to the ground as well, crawling away silently.

The feral druid tackled Khujand and knocked the club from the hands of the surprised jungle troll, clinging to his back and scratching at his shoulders. Khujand was shaken but remained in a standing position, and reached back to grapple with his adversary bare handed, dragging the dangerous cat to his frontside and causing long cuts to be opened across his back. Irien fired off only one more shot from behind that was followed by the choked gargle of a sentinel who had taken a bullet in the neck. Following thereafter was a gasp from Irien and the sound of a strike to someone's solar plexus, and Cecilia rushed over, knowing that while her best friend was an excellent shot, she wasn't a particularly skilled melee fighter.

Cecilia's relocated shoulder pulsed in agony every step of the way, and she left the roars of the feral druid and the snarls of a berserk Khujand behind her and let the two men (or man and cat) duke it out unarmed as she hurried to her fallen comrade being circled with a sick glee by the two remaining uninjured sentinels.

"Weak and pathetic," the sentinel on the left spat as Irien tried to push up to her hands and knees after having had the wind knocked out at her.

Not wanting to miss out on the condescending mind game, the sentinel on the right adjusted her unimaginative guild tabard nonchalantly while kicking sand in Irien's hair. "I almost feel like it would be an insult to my boots to force her to lick the-"

:: _CRACK_ ::

Obviously having noticed Cecilia's injury, both sentinels foolishly ignored her until she bit back the lightning bolt of pain that shot up her right side from the effort and dragon kicked the leftie sentinel square in the sternum.

Rather than scream, the woman let out a deep grunt that sounded like a yeti as she fell straight back, causing a miniature explosion of sand as she hit the ground already curled up in the fetal position. When she didn't move a second time, Cecilia honed in on the rightie just in time to avoid the woman's glaive. It hit the soft sand and spun out, failing to return to her assailant the way it would have had it struck solid ground. Furiously ululating, the rightie sentinel pulled out a short sword and dove for Cecilia.

"Gack!" the woman choked while Cecilia simultaneously dodged the thrust and met the woman's throat with her left elbow. The move proved to be a double edged one, and a pain even more intense than the dislocation shot up both sides of Cecilia's body at the force of the impact.

Both of them stumbled to their knees and the woman fumbled with the sword as they tried to catch their breath. Their hard stares both met as they collected themselves and rose, the younger woman's better, uninjured condition pitted against Cecilia's experience and size advantage. Her entire right side throbbed as they circled one another, the rightie sentinel taking her time while searching for the moment to strike. To Cecilia's relief, the pained meow of the cat form druid trailed off from behind her and was replaced by Khujand's rumbling breaths, and she felt a second wind uplift her. Not wanting to give the downed leftie sentinel any time to get back up, Cecilia lunged, coughing low and trying to sweep the rightie sentinel's feet out from under her.

Intentionally telegraphing the move, Cecilia tricked the rightie sentinel into dodging right into Irien, who promptly grabbed the woman into a chokehold and pulled her to the ground. By the time the leftie sentinel had hobbled to her feet, Cecilia had already sent a roundhouse kick the woman's way, connecting with her hardened shin against the woman's head.

:: _THWACK_ ::

Though Cecilia's shin felt no pain due to millennia of martial training, her right side went numb from the intense pain again, and she promptly sat in the sand and watched the results of their second battle in only five minutes. Irien clung to the other sentinel's back like a spider monkey until the woman passed out, then asphyxiated and convulsed into her death throes. Panting heavily, Khujand met Cecilia's eyes happily as he also sat and watched. The druid had remained in cat form even after death, and Khujand remained sitting on his mangled back with his combat knife in his hand; he had apparently snipped the sabre cat's spinal cord. Despite the smile that only another solider could understand, Khujand didn't appear to be in great shape since the sabre had left numerous gashes on his back, shoulders and forearms.

The teal haired leader of the group stirred, hissing at her blown out ankle as she tried to crawl away. The three friends all shared a look before Khujand stood up, channeling what little mana he had left.

By the time all was said and done, the trio had limped away, Cecilia leaning a bit between Irien and Khujand as they walked toward the southern entrance of Stormshield. Back at the blood stained beach, all that laid behind them were corpses, a teal colored maggot and one surviving silver haired sentinel in a tabard that read 'WAR,' gritting her teeth and wheezing through her nose after having played dead.

* * *

The two dwarven riflemen guarding the southern entrance of the Alliance capitol on Draenor trained their weapons on Khujand from fifty paces, but he could see more confusion than hostility in their eyes.

For sure, their group was a curious sight, the jungle troll thought. His cuts had already started to seal themselves shut from his regeneration, Cecilia had almost begun walking normally and Irien had no trouble carrying all three weapons as she marched on. By all measures, they were technically dangerous and a potential hazard. If anything, Khujand was confused himself as to why the dwarves weren't even more shocked than they had been.

"What's his business being here?" the older dwarf that looked like he was part Dark Iron asked Cecilia as they approached.

"He isn't Horde," Cecilia stated in her monotone sentinel voice, fudging the truth a little - Khujand had two ID cards. "We're here at the behest Steamwheedle."

"They're here at the behest of Steamwheedle!" piped up the nervous voice of a goblin male Khujand assumed to be Manny, his fiancé's manic contact at Ashran.

The older dwarf lowered his rifle and his expression softened, but he didn't take his faintly glowing eyes off of Khujand as he spoke to the casually dressed goblin hurrying right out of the checkpoint.

"I'm going to need to see some ID for them, Manny," the old dwarf said.

"Right away, sir!" Manny affirned as he jumped up and took the lockbox from Khujand's hands without even asking just as he had flicked the lock open.

Sifting around through all the thankfully dry documents, Manny's eyes fixated something before meeting Khujand's and then darting back down, and the jungle troll knew the goblin had seen his Horde ID along with the Steamwheedle ID Cecilia had finagled for him. Once again thankfully, Manny stayed quiet and merely handed the three Steamwheedle ID cards over for review.

Even the second rifleman stood at ease as the first inspected the three cards, checking for facial recognition as he did. Handing the stack back to Manny, he politely waved them through, not even taking a second look as he returned to his post.

Stormshield was huge, and Khujand missed much of the conversation between Cecilia, Irien and Manny just gawking at it all. Many garrison cities on Draenor were quite large, but this was something else. So exhausted was he from the sinking ship, the mile and a half unexpected swim and two consecutive battles that he didn't even notice the jeers and curses hurled his way by members of the Alliance races. He felt dizzy, and by the time they reached the mage's tower, his head tingled.

There was a line of people waiting for various portals, and the wait was actually welcome as all three of them relished in the chance to stretch and rest while Manny skipped ahead to explain the plan to the portal specialists.

"That was the first time I've ever killed a fellow Kaldorei," Irien mumbled, a blank look on her face.

"That was like tha fifth time I've killed a fellow Darkspear, tenth I've killed any other jungle troll," Khujand mumbled back.

Grimacing, Irien shot a macabre look his way. "Bein' killed by another troll is tha number one cause of death among trolls," he elaborated further.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Cecilia in a rather sombre demeanor as they waited in the sluggish line.

"It's alright, girl. We're done. Tha hard part is over."

Disappointment filled her gaze as she apparently missed what he had said, mumbling in Darnassian only loudly enough for him to hear. "I'm slowing down. My reaction time increased."

"Naw, don't say that Cici," he reassured her, both amused at how seriously she blamed herself and concerned for her elven pride. "We were all exhausted, and ya shoulder got popped. It was nothin' and ya know it." When she nodded congenially but didn't speak, he pressed again. "We wouldn't've made it without ya."

She took him by the arm and leaned on a non bloody patch of hide on his shoulder, and Irien did the same to her as they reached the front of the line. The mages focused on what they were doing, but Manny and the gnomish assistant both looked concerned.

"Get ready," the diminutive cartel representative warned. "You're going into the capitol of the Alliance. Don't expect a warm welcome."

"The two factions are working together here on Draenor now," Irien countered with a wave of her hand. "How hostile could the environment be?"

"Irien, ya got a talent for ominous statements," Khujand chuckled as Manny just shook his head.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," was the last thing Khujand heard before the three of them stepped in to the portal.


	4. Azeroth

Unused to portals for the most part, Cecilia felt relieved when she managed to avoid not only the nausea associated with teleportation but also any residual pain as her feet hit the stone floor of the mage tower in Stormwind. She had held the hands of both her fiancé and best friend as they jumped through, and the physical contact helped her to ground herself quickly once her vision stopped blurring.

"Azeroth!" Irien cooed as the three of them got their bearings. "I can't believe we've been on another planet for a whole year!"

From what Cecilia could tell, the travelers ahead of them had already mentioned them to the mage tower assistants, as a group of staff members - apprentices, guards and portal specialists - all stood in silence as if they had just been discussing the motley crew. A group of travelers who had arrived in another portal were just on their way out, leaving the two night elves and the jungle troll standing in the center of a portal area surrounded by people awkwardly trying to find something else to look at.

Clearing her throat, Cecilia switched to Common but spoke softly. "Manny said our room on the ship will be waiting for us very soon given how much time we lost on the swim," she explained as the three of them shuffled out of the tower at a snail's pace. "The city is rather large, so we need to keep moving. We aren't home quite yet."

"We're back on our home planet, that's already good enough," Irien sighed contentedly as they descended the narrow, human sized staircase single file. "Either way, it's basically over."

"Stop saying stuff like that!"

"Cici, relax. We aren't in a war zone anymore." Irien's voice held a lightly playful tone, but it did little to pull Cecilia out of her protection warrior mode.

"When we're inside of our new house in Ratchet, I'll relax. Until then, we're still in transit." She could hear Irien huffing and knew the sharpshooter was probably doing an eye roll, but she meant what she said.

Due to the jabbing fingers and foul remarks they'd received in Stormshield, Cecilia already expected the worst before they arrived in the primary hub of the entire Alliance.

When they exited the tower and moved out into the open of the city's mage quarter, she realized she was right, and Khujand quickly snapped out of the stupor he'd been in since Ashran.

"Officer, officer, can you do something about this?" a snooty human whined in Common to an armored guard while pointing dismissively at the trio before they even had a chance to gaze at the stars and gauge the time of night.

"Do about what?" Irien asked a bit indignantly.

"What seems to be the problem?" the guard asked politely, eyeing the battered group wearing clothes stiffened from dried salt.

"That's what I'm asking!" Irien retorted, already visibly irritated by the human who simply walked off.

The guard honed in on Khujand, giving him a look of reluctant exasperation. "Steamwheedle?" the mentally tired guard asked.

"That's correct, officer," Cecilia answered, stepping in as spokeswoman for the group. "We have a voyage which may be docking now."

"It already docked. You need to hurry; it would be best for you and the residents." The guard looked at Khujand again almost sympathetically, examining the unaggressive Darkspear closely. "It might be better if I escort you there, actually. We don't want any...unpleasantries to occur here in our city."

The man turned to leave without a word more, and the three followed him, though not without a measure of complaining by Irien. "I don't see what sort of unpleasantries could occur. It isn't fair that we have to be watched because one asshole took issue."

"Think of it as an official escort," Cecilia suggested as they followed the guard through the trade district, moving as quickly as he did unquestioningly.

Not having visited Stormwind for a few years herself, Cecilia followed her fiancé's lead in craning all around to inspect the scene. There was a higher amount of humans and high elves pointing and scowling, certainly making rude comments under their breath about a member of a race associated with the Horde in their city. Some of the dwarves, surprisingly, even appeared irritated by Khujand's presence, and they were much less shy than all others if they felt like making loud comments about fallen comrades and age old battles over which they bore grudges.

The guard picked up speed, likely necessary due to the sheer size of the metropolis. Other guards also kept watch over the group, though given the shocking lack of hostility from them Cecilia assumed it was more to prevent scandal than to watch over Khujand in expectation of him causing trouble.

"Humans are assholes. They need to learn to freaking mind their own business." Irien spoke in Darnassian in a tone so low that only their little group would hear.

"I've never seen so many beggars," Khujand remarked calmly in his near fluent Darnassian, letting the jeers of a group of human merchants roll off of him.

"You don't have them in Horde towns?" Irien asked.

"Naw, tha Horde is like ya people: if somebody doesn't got work, they give them a bed and work ta do. Tha Horde has more poverty than what I see here overall, but nobody is miserable like this," he replied while pointing with his elbow to the number of shoeless panhandlers being ignored by nobility of multiple races. "I've never seen anythin' like this."

Their low banter was interrupted by a human woman wearing an unwashed moo moo who was so short she could almost be a tall dwarf. "I have my kids out here!" she berated the guard while stepping out from an alleyway of cramped, wooden apartments three stories high. "Why do they have to see that thing? How can I explain it to them?"

Although Khujand appeared confused by the woman's words at first, Cecilia figured out her intent fairly quickly, and tried to run a breathing exercise as she felt her pulse jump. The guard tried to simply wave the woman away, but Irien stopped just before they had left through the gate marking the beginning of the cathedral district.

"Why don't you start by explaining that thing on your head you call a hairdo!" the younger elf snapped in Common. "And take a bath while you're at it!"

"Miss, please," the guard pleaded while trying to usher the three under the gate.

"This is a family area, how can a beast like that even be allowed inside unless it has a leash?" the loud mouthed woman mouthed off so sincerely that it honestly didn't even seem like an insult so much as an idea she actually believed.

"Fuck you and your pig nosed little brats!" Irien shouted right back at her, and Cecilia literally had to drag her out.

"Irien, the woman's kids didn't do anything wrong!" Cecilia urged quietly in Darnassian as she lifted the sharpshooter up using her good arm.

"Mommy, I hate the blue thing," one of the kids with an unusually highly turned up nose oinked almost on cue as they left the district.

"Look, I don't want any trouble and I don't want to give you a citation, but I may not have a choice," the guard warned Irien over his shoulder as they passed a group of nuns. One of them passed out at the sight of the big jungle troll and had to be caught by the others.

"But she mmph pmmph," Irien mouthed into Cecilia's palm while being dragged along through the open air temple complex.

"Well, I never!" gasped an older human priestess as the group passed by a shop for clergy's attire.

"Stormwind is really going down the tubes if trash like this can roam the streets without being cleaned up," a one legged veteran paladin grumbled from behind a low wall closing off a grassy area.

Knowing her young friend well, Cecilia cupped Irien's mouth again preemptively to prevent her from saying something bad about the handicapped. In truth, Irien had no ill will toward the handicapped or children, but she never suffered insult well. She had gone through trials just as Cecilia and Khujand had, having been mercilessly picked on for centuries by the other women at the ranger academy in Darkshore, but unlike her two counterparts she had never learned to take it in a stride and coped by lashing out.

The guard picked up the pace and had already exited the cathedral district by a few paces, leaving the group a little ways back when a multiracial group of twenty adventurers passed them going in the opposite direction. Despite the fact that most of the abuse Cecilia already knew was coming would be hurled at her fiancé, it was her best friend she worried about more.

"Woogey boogey, spear chucker!" a drunk human rogue snickered at Khujand in a voice loud enough to be heard by most of the street.

Displaying an unbelievable amount of self control in spite of his usually manic, sensitive nature, Khujand didn't even look at the man for one second, taking care not to bump into anyone as he tried to hurry up. As angry as Cecilia felt at the blatantly racist comment, she felt a swell of relief from one end when Khujand didn't even look upset.

Irien, on the other hand, blew up.

"Brush your corn munching teeth you nasty fucking pinkskin!"

The group of twenty all jumped away from the pissed off night elf female, eliciting a combination of gasps, tongue tutting and boos. The guard had apparently heard, and frantically came running back as he likely sensed what Cecilia did.

"Irien, don't answer racism with racism!" Cecilia urged again, trying to pull the younger elf away.

One of the rogue's buddies spun around, hiccuping right before engaging in some racist banter of his own. "Why don't you take your comically elongated ears and ridiculous hair color and go back to clown college," the second human slurred with a shocking coherence.

"Just everybody calm down!" the overwhelmed guard, who must have been young even by human standards, sputtered.

"Wait a minute, I have purple hair!" complained one of the human's gnomish friends in sincere offense.

"I have long ears!" a high elf sorceress chimed in as well.

"And my brother went to clown college!"

"Oh, I didn't meant it like that!" the second drunkard protested as he raised his hands in the air. "I just meant that they shouldn't bring this blue colored beast in our pristine city!"

"We're blue!" retorted two draenei who now seemed more focused on being offended by their friend than on being perturbed by the massive troll trying to skulk away.

"My brother went to clown college!"

"Alright, just everybody calm down!" the guard shouted while banging his gauntlet against his chest plate. "These people here are neutral travelers in transit. Everyone else go about your business or I'm issuing citations right here on the spot!"

Cooler heads prevailed as the drunks were pulled off into the night by some of their friends, walking away grumbling and nothing more. Irien continued to stare daggers in their direction even after Cecilia pulled her away. The path leading to the harbor was almost in full view, and things were almost at peace.

"Please just try to ignore comments," the guard pleaded once more as he led them toward their destination. "We're very close, I'll get in trouble if I can't keep things under control."

"We understand, officer," Cecilia attempted to reassure the young human.

:: _SPLAT_ ::

"What tha hell?" Khujand exclaimed as an egg crashed right onto his shirt.

Every bad word in Common flowed from Irien's mouth as she tried to grab a rock from the grass to throw back, but whoever from the crowd behind them had tossed the egg quickly disappeared among them. Cecilia strained her already tired body to hold Irien back, narrowly moving out of the way of a tomato that came flying from another direction. The guard actually stomped toward the group of twenty and scared them off, earning himself angry comments from the few who hadn't been causing trouble and felt unfairly threatened. The young guard followed them all a ways away to ensure that they were gone, leaving the three overlooking the city's port.

"They can't do that! They can't! They didn't even show themselves!" Irien choked out so quickly that she forgot to breathe at first.

"Don't get all worked up over me, I can take tha abuse if it means gettin' home," Khujand tried to rationalize. "I can get ya both inta Orgrimmar, but I couldn't have gotten ya inta Warspear. This is tha only way."

"How can you not be upset at how they treat you! This is bullshit, this is fucking...! This!" So angry was Irien that she didn't even quite find the words in her own language, doing her hand waving thing as Cecilia and Khujand both tried to calm her down until the guard returned from shooing away the drunks.

"They're ignorant, it doesn't matter what they think, Irien."

"They ruined your shirt because they're racist assholes!"

"I can buy a new shirt anyway," he reasoned, trying to hug the irritated elf and rotate her to face away from the rapidly dispersing crowd of twenty.

To the side on a patch of grass stood a few stoic night elves, observing their two proverbial sisters as they tried to escort a jungle troll out of the city. Realizing they had nothing to wipe down Khujand's shirt with, Cecilia took a few steps toward their fellow Kaldorei once she was sure her own two companions were safe.

"Ishnu alah, my sister," Cecilia greeted a youngish (read: a thousand years old) archer on the patch of grass. "Might we borrow-"

"I have nothing to say to you, drug user," the archer bit back at lightning speed, referencing the faded glow in Cecilia's eyes.

Taken aback, she didn't quite know how to react at first. She wasn't a pushover, but she certainly hadn't expected such a reaction from one of her own kind, much less one so much younger. "Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.

"You're excused," the archer said tersely while turning halfway back to her own companions. "Go be with the beast I'm assuming you gave yourself to after failing to find a man."

The words were so audacious and said with such a subtle but powerful spite that Cecilia didn't know how to respond at first. Had the archer been timid or unsure in her slander, it may have been easier to shame her into apologizing. But to have someone obviously much younger than her speaking with such utter contempt and disrespect in a culture that valued age - and Cecilia was about as ancient as they come - was mind boggling. It was only the prompt return of the flustered young guard that saved her from committing an act she would regret later.

"Alright, they're gone now," the guard panted as he reached the trio. "Look, we have to leave now. I'm serious. Your ship is ready and you're only going to encounter more problems if you stay longer. Follow me."

Again not even waiting to see if they were listening to him or not, the guard clinked off in his armor, heading toward the stone steps that would take them to the port. Cecilia lingered only a moment longer, denied even the satisfaction of intimidation when the archer, who wouldn't stand a chance in a duel, stood arrogantly and unafraid knowing she was surrounded by a whole city that would support her.

"Goddess, light your path," Cecilia stated coldly as she turned away. Her prayer for ignorance to be lifted fell on deaf ears as the archer turned her back all the way, refusing to even watch Cecilia as she joined the others on the way out.

The walk to the pier itself was long but uneventful. Khujand had eventually found a stray rag left on a bench to wipe the egg from his shirt. Due to the amalgamation of races among the dockworkers, the harbor proved to be a much safer, more tolerant haven and the overwhelmed guard quickly calmed down.

Everything was a blur. Cecilia's right side rotator cuff settled into a dull ache, her nerves were shot from the constant stream of curses and stares her fiancé had received, her heart pounded uncomfortably fast due to the sheer disrespect from a younger Kaldorei that was so unacceptable in their culture, and to top it all off she finally remembered, ambling through the crowds of sailors and merchants toward the pier, that all of their armor, her own weapon and shield, all of their clothing other than what they had on their backs and every gift, memento and souvenir they had brought with them were at the bottom of the ocean on another planet they'd never visit again. All they had now were their own salt, sweat and blood drenched clothes and shoes, a similarly weathered burlap sack full of soggy pairs of socks and underwear, a lockbox containing only the bare necessities and enough gold only for food, soap, maybe a decent amount of personal hygiene products and, if they were lucky, possibly one fresh set of clothing Irien's size. All of the above would need to last them the entire three week voyage to Orgrimmar where her fiancé had one more legal process to undertake with his lawyer in a massive time sink for a simple paper signing and then the further two day voyage from Orgrimmar to Ratchet.

So downcast was Cecilia that she didn't even notice the three of them had already silently reached the pier and the uncomfortable guard had already disappeared. It was only the sound of one pair of elven feet and one pair of draenei hooves approaching them that brought her out of her stupor.

"Sister, wait," came the meek voice of a younger Kaldorei from behind her.

Nerves still frazzled, Irien spun around defensively to face their two interlocutors, and even Khujand appeared a little on edge as he fumbled the bag containing the lockbox and his club, glaive and Irien's rifle. Despite her hurt shoulder, Cecilia remained out in front of the group, ever the vigilant leader. The two familiar faces before them, however, were far from hostile.

The speaker was a second archer, bow and quiver and all, one of the two companions of the shockingly rude, disrespectful first archer from earlier. The other was a relatively lean draenei man wearing party clothes who had been with the group of twenty from earlier. Both of them wore sheepish and apologetic looks on their faces.

"My heartfelt sorrow to you for the behavior of my comrade just a few minutes ago," the second archer said while ringing the shaft of her bow nervously. Her body language, right down to bowing her head low when speaking to one considered as wise as Cecilia, was much more appropriate and respectful by their people's standards. "It's unacceptable and unbefitting treatment of one of your generation."

"Not all of us are like my own companion from earlier, either," the draenei addressed to all three of them but looked primarily at Khujand. "Such people do not speak for the Alliance."

"Not for the Alliance, and not for Darnassus!" the archer quickly added. The draenei shot her a glance and she realized she'd left him out. "Or for the Exodar!"

The trio all nodded, rather tired from the events of the past few hours. Noticing, the draenei man opened his man purse and handed them some leftover food from a party buffet wrapped in paper towels. "Please, I don't have anything else."

"Thanks for ya kindness," Khujand panted, seeming to sense that Cecilia no longer felt like talking. "But we can't take ya food from ya."

The archer quickly pulled a container of Darnassian bleu, a pack of tissues and some toothpicks from her belt pouch. "Please, we'll feel guilty if you leave without accepting help. Let us at least do what we can."

Nearly in tears from the earlier harassment, Irien nudged Khujand and stepped forward to help accept the gifts. "Thank you," she sniffled, her anger not having yet subsided. "We promise to pay it forward."

"Goddess light your path, big sister," the archer said after placing her hand comfortingly on Cecilia's forearm.

As much as she appreciated the gesture, Cecilia felt too dejected in so many ways to grant more than a polite smile and thank you before the embarrassed duo gladly took their leave. Standing at the docks, she looked out across the ocean toward Kalimdor as the dockmaster rang a bell in front of their ship, giving out the last call for passengers to board the Steamwheedle voyage to the Horde capitol. Such a trip would have been disallowed or at least kept secret a few years ago, but at least for neutral organizations, the political climate really had changed. Sheltered at least by the warmth of Irien holding to one side of her and Khujand to the other, Cecilia walked with them, up the boarding ramp to the ship in silence. There really wasn't anything to be said, and as the moon sank in the sky to signal the coming day, all she could think of was reaching their cabin and nursing her wounded shoulder and pride until sleep overtook them all.

* * *

"Ya still quiet."

"I'm still upset."

"Cici, it's been two weeks. We're isolated with plenty of time ta deal with what happened."

"I understand that logically, better than you. And you know I would have considered that by now."

"I'm sorry."

...

"No, I am. You're trying to help."

"I guess I failed."

"No, you didn't. I did. I'm just letting it get to me."

"We've been through alotta stuff, girl. It's okay."

"No, I'm supposed to be the rock in the relationship. The anchor for both of us."

"It's okay ta falter sometimes. This ain't tha Vigil anymore. Nobody is gonna fault ya for bein' overtaken by ya emotions every now and then."

"I shouldn't. That person broke every rule in our traditions while supposedly criticizing me for having fallen. I've never been so disrespected since recovering."

"Then that's why it got under ya skin, Cici. And that's okay. Stop blamin' yaself for tha way ya feel and just feel it!"

"I love you."

"Wha? Ha, I love ya too."

"I'm upset and I'm upset that I'm upset as well."

"They're assholes and people get what they deserve. And..."

"Those are Irien's footsteps. Our clothing must be dry."

"I'll pretend ta be asleep."

"Me too. It's late, probably morning already anyway. We have a long week to commiserate and recover."

* * *

Khujand led his fiancé and his best friend from the brand new docks at the coastline near Orgrimmar toward the high iron gates of the city proper. Much of the area out front had been consumed by an enormous complex of stables, discount traveler's hostels and pig farms. A smattering of service stations catering to merchants and adventurers punctuated the landscape, and it was a loud, pleasant chaos that late afternoon.

"I still think this is a terrible idea," Irien mumbled in Darnassian from the middle of the group.

"I'm tellin' ya, that Horde is more ideologically driven and I'm not gonna miss bein' a member of tha faction," Khujand repeated as he led the two women around a curious herd of tauren children toward the main road leading into the capitol. "But if there's one thing ya can say about tha Horde, it's that they're markedly less racist than tha Alliance. There's more emphasis on what ya do, not on who ya were born as."

"You're saying that because you used to be a member. So even if you're leaving them soon and have no allegiance to either the Alliance or the Horde, you're still more positive toward the latter." The three weeks at sea had given them all plenty of time to rest from the depressing, offensive experience they'd suffered at Stormwind, and Irien had already reverted back to her old, argumentative self.

"Ya wrong. Tha Horde is more ideological but less racist cause of how it functions."

"Defend your position," Irien demanded, mimicking her uncle's new wife, a certain watcher come motivational speaker well known to their people.

"Tha Alliance chooses their leaders based solely on birthright or religious fundamentalism. Tha humans, dwarves and worgen all got royalty who rule not cause of their merit or brains, but cause of who their daddies are. And there ain't no society on Azeroth based on inheritin' tha throne except that it's based on social class and arrogance."

Irien ran up to walk side by side with Khujand, eager to listen to his defense and, he figured, to form a rebuttal without actually considering whether or not he could be correct. Several orc guards - much more heavily armored than the typical grunts - eyeballed the group as they walked, but made no gestures or expressions to indicate their reactions. A group of blood elves ushering their avian mounts out of the way stared at Cecilia and Irien contemptuously, but didn't speak even among themselves and soon went back to their business, leaving the trio to rapidly approach the gates.

"And religious fundamentalism?" Irien asked pointedly as if she knew what was coming.

"Ya people say Tyrande is chosen by Elune, so criticizin' her political decisions ends up bein' like a heresy," he replied, eliciting a tongue tut of condescension from Cecilia at the mention of the High Priestess. "And tha draenei believe that Velen is a freakin' prophet, so if he told them ta drink poisoned juice in ritual suicide they'd do it. Tha whole atmosphere in ta Alliance breeds arrogance, rich abusin' tha poor and tha rulers becomin' dictators over tha ruled rather than servants ta tha public."

The three arrived at the main gates just as he finished his last sentence. They were as huge as he remembered, bearing no marks of the seige he had heard so much about from a few years ago. All other people walked through freely, though the two guards - one an orc and the other a tauren - stopped the biracial trio as they approached.

"Show us some ID for those two and please speak a sanctioned language in public," the tauren guard warned.

"They're Steamwheedle. They're not enemies and we're just gonna be in town half an hour or so." Khujand handed over Cecilia and Irien's neutral ID cards and his own Horde ID card over for the guards to inspect. The tauren appeared much more suspicious at first, and Khujand tried his best to ease the man's concerns. "I understand that I'm their sponsors while here, and thus am responsible for whatever they do, legally."

The tauren, a younger looking one by the silkiness of his fur, looked to the grey haired orc for guidance. "They're fine," the older guard said with a formal nod, and the three were soon on their way through the main hall leading into the open air city built into a complex of valleys.

"You're ignoring something about the Horde, Khuj," Irien countered once they were past, switching back to Darnassian but with a Sindorei accent that would fool the guards in order to keep the conversation private.

"Yeah?"

"They have royalty, too."

"Defend ya position."

"Well, Baine Bloodhoof inherited the throne of Thunderbluff from his father."

"Yet tha tauren don't seek overall political leadership of tha faction cause of their laid back nature," Khujand countered, "so that has no effect."

"Sylvannas rules the undead as a religious leader."

"Except that they had an attempted coup against her a few years ago and nobody made arguments against it save that it's politically expedient ta keep her there at Undercity. Plus, Forsaken don't seem ta have strong religious beliefs."

"Well they don't matter politically either. Let's look at the goblins. Their trade prince is a rich, upper class asshole."

"But he didn't inherit what he has. He fought for it by bein' tha sneakiest, most devious businessman out there. If that ain't rule based on merit, I don't know what is."

"The Sindorei? Ring a bell?"

"Nobody cares about them. They don't care about tha Horde too much, either."

"Well fine, I agree that nobody cares about blood elves," Irien grumbled, eliciting a laugh from Cecilia, who had been in a sort of trance up until that point. "Orcs?"

"Thrall led his people and became a leader based on that. Garrosh was promoted based on bein' an effective military leader."

"And a gaping asshole."

"Yeah. But that's still rule based on merit."

"For being an asshole."

"Can you two please discuss politics without foul language?" Cecilia asked while ignoring a few more dirty looks in the main square of Orgrimmar.

"So tell me, Mr. Darkspear lore keeper. How did Vol'jin become the leader of your tribe again?" Irien asked with a mock sense of wonder in her voice.

"Through a way he didn't deserve, but how did he become tha leader of tha Horde?" Khujand asked. "Tha people rose up against Garrosh in a popular revolution, and then Vol'jin was chosen by tha representatives of tha society."

"He wouldn't have had the opportunity had he not inherited his father's position as chieftain."

"But he wouldn't have made it beyond that had he not been tha best suited for tha job. In tha end, he rules cause tha people chose him, and that makes them more fanatical about ideology and their 'side,' but less given ta racism and classism."

"Enough, guys. I'm trying to focus," Cecilia ordered while gazing up at the cliffs above the city. A few goblins made a visible effort to turn and take a different route to avoid the night elves, but for the most part the crowd didn't stop beyond giving either curious glances or simple brief glares without challenges.

"I guess I should, too. I don't expect I'll ever visit this city again," Khujand said while looking all around him. Truly, he wouldn't miss being a part of the Horde, but he would at least remember the period of his life fondly for the good moments, as he did with the other periods of his life.

"No...I've seen this before," Cecilia murmured, enraptured by some sort of flashback. "I've been here before...I can't quite grasp it..."

"You've been to the capitol city of the Horde?" Irien asked incredulously.

"During the Long Vigil...we were on patrol in Azshara...we came a little too far south chasing a harpy warband. We killed them in this valley," the older elf murmured again. Shaking her head as a fly landed on her nose, she frowned as she jumped back into the present. "It's gone. I'll remember it later. Honey, come on." She took him by the arm and pulled him close, smiling at a blood elf sorceress who actually shot the trio a more polite glance. "The sooner we meet with this lawyer of yours, the sooner we can finally be in our new home, and finally be free.

"We're so close. I can feel it."


	5. The End of War

Halfway to the office of Lorthiras, Khujand's undead lawyer, Cecilia had recounted the story of how she had visited the site that would eventually become Orgrimmar five thousand years before Kalimdor was discovered by orcs and humans and before Khujand had been born, and four thousand years before Irien had been born. They both hung on every word she said, and Irien whined that she had lost her blank diaries in the shipwreck on Draenor and was unable to jot down what Cecilia had recounted.

The elder elf merely chuckled deeply, saying that eventually they'd be able to buy one and record that and other stories, much to Irien's delight. By the time they finished the long walk to the main road located near Lorthiras' office, most of the locals seemed to have gotten used to the presence of the two neutral night elves, and true to Khujand's claim, they had an easier time strolling through the capitol of the Horde than the capitol of the Alliance.

Save one small incident.

Somewhere between the main gate and the residences of professional offices, another troll accosted the group - not a jungle troll like Khujand, but a forest troll. Raventusk for sure, one of the few tribes other than the Darkspear that had joined the Horde. Half a foot taller than her fiancé and much bulkier, the forest troll carried his weight a little more naturally; he was ripped and sinewy yet also hulking in a way Cecilia found very unappealing, unlike Khujand who was in decent enough shape but not grossly vascular or puffy. The forest troll's tall, wide upper lip and narrower nose made it apparent that the forest trolls and jungle trolls were just as different as the night elves and the blood elves in appearance, though the axe thrower appeared perfectly at home among the rest of the Horde races.

Immediately, Khujand tensed up and Cecilia knew something was wrong. "Keep walkin'," he ordered her and Irien both in a low voice.

The forest troll stood among a group of mostly orcs alongside two jungle trolls and a tauren. They had all previously been laughing and joking next to a busy convenience store, but when one of the other jungle trolls nudged the forest troll and pointed at the neutral group of three, the big brute turned around.

"Come on, faster," Khujand whispered to Cecilia again in an uncharacteristically blunt manner. There was not a hint of anything save the usual closeness they felt with each other, but the seriousness in his tone made her uneasy, and even Irien suddenly became quiet.

"Hey Wendigo," one of the orcs said in Orcish to the barefoot forest troll, "get a load of this." Cecilia understood Orcish well enough to know that the man's intonation wasn't nefarious, but surely he must have expected what his friend would do next.

Even though Cecilia spoke little Zandali - it would be her seventh language, and she took her time receiving lessons from Khujand - she knew that the string of exchanges the two men shared as they passed by were unfriendly based on the Raventusk's smug smirk and her fiancé's tense, highly irritated posture.

"E'chuta! Mogok tra pung Kaldorei bitches!" the man called Wendigo shouted at Khujand mockingly. Cecilia definitely understood the last word of the sentence, and who it was aimed at.

Channeling thousands of years of patience, she ignored the slur, but her concern increased when Khujand continued walking. Not that she wanted him to respond at all, but he normally would have, and she expected to just hold him back and try to end it. When he avoided eye contact even after the man started to approach, she knew the words must be bad.

"E'chuta, ain pongo you," this Wendigo person shouted again as he walked sideways to follow them.

The other two Darkspear men showed zero solidarity with Khujand, and the orcs mostly looked on without glee but without any desire to intervene either. The tauren, on the other hand, looked as uneasy as Cecilia but disapproving as well.

"Wendigo, just let them be," the plainclothes tauren said while walking after the Raventusk man. The addition of another person to the train as Cecilia and her companions tried to walk away caused people near the doorways of the nearby shops and offices to begin staring.

Completely ignoring his level headed friend, the Raventusk brute continued to follow them. "You trang trapang Kaldorei, man?" came the next taunt. As far as Cecilia understood, 'trapang' meant a sea cucumber in Zandali, which she even surprised herself by remembering. She didn't have to think much about what it meant by her fiancé's reaction when he finally lost his cool.

Spinning around, Khujand's mane had stood up in the back of his neck, but he looked completely defensive as he grabbed both Cecilia and Irien by the wrists and pulled them behind him. "Nardu kraf bupa you harj fucking!" Discerning their mood was easy, but Cecilia struggled to understand the words as they spoke too fast for her and with improper enunciation as all native speakers of a language tended to do.

Encouraged by the reaction, Wendigo snickered and straightened up. He wasn't so big for a forest troll despite being noticeably taller than Khujand and the other two jungle trolls. Though his hands dangled aplomb at his sides, he stuck his chest out in a way that men of virtually all races did when they were daring another man to hit them. "Buh?" Wendigo asked, his eyes and grin both wide as he seemed to find Khujand's struck nerve hilarious. "Buh?"

A few of the forest troll's orc friends actually began to walk away, not wanting to be involved, and the other two Darkspear men just watched the show like all the people at the building doorways. Despite her urge to kick the man in his kneecap, Cecilia suppressed her increasing anger and remained behind Khujand, knowing that as a night elf if she reacted at all, the conveniently absent Horde police might not deal with her fairly whenever they chose to arrive.

The tauren stopped walking when the aggressive forest troll did, but actually reached out and tried to tug on the big green brute's arm. "Come on man, just leave it, there are better things to do." In spite of the tauren's size, Wendigo didn't budge even half an inch when the tauren gave a rather forceful tug; he may as well have been pulling on a brick wall.

"Buh?"

Just as Khujand leaned forward and was about to growl back at Wendigo, the man thrust himself forward, sending the tauren who was still gripping his arm off balance and thumbing his chest into Khujand's, sending him tumbling backward. Cecilia and Irien moved just in time to avoid something she'd never thought she'd see as Khujand fell down on his butt.

She'd watched Khujand throw his weight around even against gronn back on Draenor; he wasn't the strongest man on Azeroth, but he was sturdy and well balanced. So she actually gasped out loud when Wendigo knocked him aside as if he was a lightweight, and immediately felt her pulse race and her head actually heat up in rage.

Everything happened in just a few seconds. Irien maintained an uncharacteristic cool as she tried to help up a blushing and embarrassed Khujand up off the ground. At the same time, the tauren, two of the orcs, one of the other jungle trolls and an unrelated orc from a nearby shop who had previously been uninvolved jumped in between the two men, mostly to restrain the now proudly cackling Wendigo as he thumped his own chest like an ape. Irien tried to hug around Khujand's neck to calm him as he looked embarrassed and upset to the point of doing something stupid, though Cecilia only saw them for a second before she moved close enough to Wendigo to smell the whiskey on his breath.

In the best broken, heavily accented Zandali she could muster, Cecilia began to snarl at this Wendigo person without thinking. "You, bitch! I no-"

A flash of green blocked Cecilia's view as two more forest trolls walked out of the door of a general contracting office directly next to her. The first thing she saw clearly was a Raventusk woman wearing tribal garb blocking her path. The woman's expression was one of sympathy.

"Ya ignore him, sugar," the forest troll female told her in accented Orcish. "I be sorry ta ya for this idiot, but ya gotta walk away _right_ now."

The second flash of green was a forest troll man, a bit lighter than Wendigo but older and wearing some sort of noble's tribal garb as he got right up in Wendigo's face. "You ingrate, those people jhuh ki be here if they jhuha not neutral," the older forest troll scolded Wendigo in a slow, punctuated tone that let Cecilia understand most of the Zandali words.

As the group moved further away, the tauren took a step toward the group again, standing right behind the forest troll woman. In his eyes was a level of remorse far stronger than what Cecilia would have expected from someone who didn't know them.

"I'm sorry...please, don't think all of us are like this," the tauren apologized in rushed but fluent Orcish, obviusly having realized that Cecilia spoke the language.

Steeling the muscles in her jaw, she did her best to exercise her sentinel's self control and focus on the man apologizing rather than the man who was still shouting slurs in Zandali. "It wasn't your fault. It's okay," she told the apologetic tauren.

"No, it isn't okay at all, ma'am," the bovine man replied. His voice was a bit high pitched - for one of his race, at least - and he appeared to have taken it upon himself to represent the entire faction. "It was unacceptable and...I'm so sorry, that doesn't represent us." He was about to say more until the forest troll woman nodded over her shoulder and patted the man on the wrist.

More commotion sounded off in multiple languages as the growing crowd slowly moved further away, even Wendigo as the older Raventusk tribesman let him have it in the middle of the street. The Raventusk tribeswoman reached out and gripped Cecilia's shoulders in a handsy way only trolls could do with a complete stranger and firmly rotated her around to face Irien as she kept ahold of Khujand despite the dejected jungle troll making no attempt to chase after Wendigo.

"I be helpin' ya, sugar; ya gotta walk away."

The surface of Cecilia's face, neck and arms felt hot as she worked to hold back a great deal of negative feelings, knowing that she had to be the leader and the mature party even when she felt so incensed. Ignoring the gradually disappearing sound of the crowd - which had already rounded a corner - she walked forward and cupped Khujand's cheeks in her hands, trying unsuccessfully to get him to look her in the eye.

"It's okay, honey. He's an asshole, but you don't need to get in trouble for his sake. Let's just go."

His usually light blue hide turned a darker shade in his face, and she recognized his downcast expression as that of a man from a patriarchal culture who felt he'd failed in protecting his woman. Her heart nearly cracked at the sight, and she felt even more torn up inside knowing that to hug him close would only humiliate him more.

Slowly, Khujand just nodded and gave a slight motion of his hands for her and Irien to follow him, too crestfallen to even give them a nudge. His slouch increased to the level of most men of the Darkspear tribe, which was more than his personal posture. Racking her ancient memory for what she knew of the male mind, she sufficed herself with walking close enough to rub shoulders with him and whisper to him even though there was nobody else around to hear.

"He had to catch you off guard; his feet weren't long or wide enough to leverage his weight well enough otherwise," she bluffed, trying to intellectualize the incident to remove Khujand's emotional sting from it.

"Maybe..." he sighed as they approached the side street that was their destination.

"Really. You didn't look, but I noticed - he was kind of tall, but his shoe size was smaller than yours. It was ridiculous."

Though Khujand did his best to keep looking down, his ears pricked up and his slouch lessened involuntarily, and Cecilia knew she'd found the right thing to say. Ever so slightly, he let his hands swing again as he walked in just the right way that she could let her knuckles brush against his.

Having remained silent the whole time, Irien finally jumped in. "His nose was thin, too. What a fucking kodo turd," she huffed in a dismissive way just subtle enough that it didn't seem forced.

By the time they'd passed the last few quiet buildings and the rowdy crowd had entirely disappeared, she felt him relax enough to let her hold his hand, knowing that there was nobody else to bother him. She stroked his much larger thumb with her own as the three finished their walk in silence, which at that point helped them to get over the incident far better than any words could have.

"I think this be tha place..."

Smack dab in the middle of several Orcish style buildings sat Lorthiras' Forsaken style law office, its black, aged architecture looking more like a haunted house than a professional place of work. A large tauren bailiff whose black fur was mottled with flecks of grey stood outside, wielding a nightstick that had been enchanted with lightning. As the three of them approached, the bovine man's eyes grew wide at the sight of Cecilia's fiancé as though he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Hail," the bailiff said in Orcish, looking the jungle troll up and down. "You seem to have done well for yourself."

"People can change," Khujand replied as the three of them followed the confounded bailiff inside.

A mixture of sincerity and almost sheepishness flashed in the bailiff's face, and something silently passed between the two men that Cecilia didn't quite understand. "I'm happy for you," the surprised bailiff said.

"Oh...thank ya, officer," the equally surprised jungle troll responded.

They lingered for a moment before the tauren spoke up again. "Sir Lorthiras has been expecting you on this date. Your...associates are also welcome inside. He may need them as witnesses to the signing of your final release from parole as well."

Cecilia had heard stories about how gruff and unfriendly the bailiff had been to her fiancé during his arraignment and prosecution. What she saw before her now was an entirely different person. Although, she thought, the bailiff may have been thinking the same thing when he saw Khujand in plain clothes, well kept and accompanied by a female.

The bottom floor was occupied by a notary public and some sort of private archive, both of which were closed off to the group. Cecilia felt slightly unnerved - even a progressive night elf such as herself would always harbor some misgivings about the undead. The long crimson hallways defied physics as they appeared too long to fit in house that appeared relatively small from the outside, and the stairwell was so wide that it should have occupied half the building's width, yet didn't. A rotting ghoul sat in a little dead end of the second story hall next to some seemingly pointless chairs and a mop it had apparently been chewing on. The floors were at least sparkling clean, in the ghoul's defense.

Two double crimson doors stood at the end of the long hall, eerily opening on their own as the group approached. Before she could even focus on the impressive bookshelves or the large mahogany desk, Cecilia's attention was caught by a spectral secretary that just gave her the creeps. A light translucent blue, the hooded ghost sat by a spectral podium, wielding a spectral pen and notepad as some sort of clerk. A very sharp dressed yet nonetheless creepy undead man stood by the desk, obviously Lorthiras by his rather formal demeanor.

"So nice to see you again, Khujand," Lorthiras stated plainly while motioning to three surprisingly comfortable seats. He sat down behind his desk, which happened to be covered in stacks of papers Cecilia assumed were the documents that signaled Khujand's final release from all ties to his former life. "I hope your two friends have enjoyed their foray into Orgrimmar, no matter how brief."

"Not really," Irien retorted rather bluntly in Orcish. "There are a lot of racists here."

Lorthiras appeared unmoved by the swipe, thumbing through the stack of papers. "Rather unfortunate, then. I do hope your next visit goes better." Once he had everything counted, he slid the stack forward along with a quill and an ink well toward the jungle troll. "We've streamlined a number of legal processes since your initial arraignment here quite a few years back," the undead lawyer explained. "Instead of signing some and initialing others from the various different pages of the documents here, you just have to sign, initial and date every single page of every single document. Isn't that so much more efficient?"

Khujand raised a finger. "Uh..."

"Exactly. Now then, there are only thirteen documents this time, totaling only sixty two pages, so you should be able to run right through those." He pulled two documents out of the stack without even checking, and Cecilia guessed he must have known exactly which ones they were. This guy was good. "There is one thing, regarding your current next of kin seeing as how you have none from before - re: the whole identity swap ordeal we performed between you and that other Darkspear individual."

"You said re," Irien snickered, earning a confused glance from the bailiff.

"Judging by your wedding bands, I take it you've married?" Lorthiras asked bluntly.

Cecilia's heart thumped hard against her chest. It seemed silly for it to do so; she and Khujand had discussed their plans for marrying once in Ratchet more than half a year ago, agreeing that they would just make it a private affair between the two of them only, considering that no ranking official from any religion would sanction a marriage between two people of their respective races. And then on the ship on Draenor, when they finally wore the wedding bands he'd shown to her months before, she mentally accepted the fact that after twelve thousand years, she would finally be a wife, and have a husband. But to hear it coming from the mouth of someone else, unrelated, made the muscles in her face pull into a grin more strongly than she would have been able to stop, and she even felt the heat in her ears as the tips darkened.

She looked to her man, waiting for his response. "Yes, tha wife and I are official now," he said with an equally large grin, and they reached for each other's hands beneath the table at the exact same moment.

"Congratulations, both of you. In that case, miss..."

"Cecilia Hearthglen."

"Miss Hearthglen, I'll need you to sign, date and initial every page of these two documents while my secretary draws up a copy of your neutral, non faction affiliated ID card." Lorthiras accepted the card and handed it to the secretary, who placed it on the ghostlike podium that somehow held up solid objects.

Irien twiddled her thumbs while Cecilia and her fia...husband filled out the forms, two of which were essentially a legal acknowledgement of their union which neither of them had expected to be possible. The bailiff snored lightly from his chair in the back of the office while Lorthiras attempted to make small talk with the younger elf, who mostly seemed interested in debating the finer points of how Forsaken experiments affected the environment and why Sylvannas wasn't fit to lead anything other than an undead nail salon.

* * *

"I see them! I see them!" Irien chirped while leaning over the bow of the ship.

"Yes, that's definitely them!" Cecilia chirped right back while pointing toward a Darkspear woman holding hands with a shorter man make on the pier, two small children at their sides. A familiar berobed, masked figure stood next to them. "That's your friend Valmar, isn't it?"

Khujand held a hand over his hairless brow, squinting to see in the noon time sun. They had hurried out of Orgrimmar right after signing his final release from parole with Lorthiras, pausing only long enough to buy more nondescript, international style clothing from a traveling merchant outside the city gates before boarding the ship again. Unlike the somber three week journey across the ocean, the brief two day journey from Orgrimmar to Ratchet had been exciting and filled with light hearted humor and planning what they would do with all the free time they assumed they'd have now that none of them would be doing any more adventuring, raiding or fighting in general. Now that he was seeing the port city that would be his home, he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him, all the years of running from problems nonstop crashing onto him.

He could barely make out the detail of Valmar's expensive furs and linens and tin mask as they approached, but it was unmistakeably the same refined undead who had once been his vulgar but respected fellow prisoner (it would be hard to describe anyone as a true friend at that time, even though they had become so since bumping into each other again on Draenor).

"That's him alright," the jungle troll hummed while waving. "I think I see Yara and Kiul approachin' tha docks, too."

True to what Cecilia and Irien had said, Ratchet had exploded with growth since the single time he had visited over a decade ago, before his imprisonment. The sides of the earthen outcropping ringing the town - they were far too big to be called hills but too small to be called mountains - had been flattened out for both houses and winding roads through the neighborhoods. Like any goblin city, the residential areas were interspersed with all sorts of shops and restaurants, while the bars were lower down on the part of town closer to the ocean, mixed in with businesses catering to either industry or shipping. There were no open spaces save a single beach that appeared - it was hard to tell from that distance, but he was fairly certain - to have a booth where people were charged simply to swim or sunbathe. Typical goblins.

"The cost of living is a little higher than elsewhere, but it's well worth it. The services here are excellent and it's much safer than any other city its size." Cecilia ran her hand over the top of his and squeezed as she spoke, and she suddenly seemed much, much younger than twelve thousand as her excitement at arriving at their home surpassed even his own. He felt her slide her feminine yet firm fingers through his beard and rest their warmth on his cheek, and he turned to see her looking up at him. "We're going to be happy here. I promise."

"I'll be happy anywhere if it's with ya...but hopefully, a relaxed city like this will help us ta be happy and carefree, too."

Their group of five friends apparently saw them as well, and the two draenei had already begun waving wildly as the ship approached the pier. Other passengers - mostly goblins and the young - already began crowding the area near the exit ramp of the ship, only to be ushered back onto the benches of the upper deck until the vessel had come to a complete stop. Ratchet was a vibrant mixture of oranges, yellows and light greens infested with the economic and social activity of at least ten thousand people, all of them visible and going about their business in the narrow streets.

There were other friends of friends and well wishers crowding to meet the other passengers on the pier, and the bruisers got a little rough while maintaining order. Cecilia held both Khujand's hand and Irien's, keeping the three of them waiting for the disorder of the other passengers to dissipate. All the same, the jungle troll thought: they'd waited so long to finally have a home and even own property, a feat out of reach of ninety five percent of the world's population. They could wait another five minutes before disembarking.

Their five friends waited patiently for them for a period, but as they neared, Irien ran forward toward Sonja, who met her halfway in a warm hug.

"It's been a long year," Sonja greeted Irien in Common in an accent that was as light as Khujand's own.

"Longer than most any other year," the sharpshooter replied as the others joined them. "Your kids have grown so much!"

The human named Erikur ambled up next to his noticeably taller wife. He didn't smile and looked like he hadn't slept in a while, but in his own way he exuded a friendliness of his own that would likely remain unspoken. Their two children were a curious mixture. Sonja's hide was a bit darker than Khujand's, and Erikur's skin was the usual pinkish-beige of the humans from the northern Eastern Kingdoms. Their two children, a boy and a girl, had a sort of lavender complexion going on with magenta hair. It was fascinating, and since Khujand and Cecilia had been talking of children of their own once they saved a few paychecks, it got him wondering what their own children together would look like.

"Good to see you again, old friend," Kiul greeted with a clap to the jungle troll's shoulder despite the fact that they'd known each other for less than a year and were relatively new friends.

"It's nice ta finally have a home town," Khujand replied. "I may be able ta stop bein' a refugee."

Kiul's expression saddened as he stared off for a moment. "Trust me...Yara and I know exactly how that feels."

Before Khujand could guilt trip himself over reminding the draenei of his people's plight, Valmar stepped in, immediately lightening up the conversation in a way Khujand wouldn't have been able to guess possible for him back when they were in prison. "This is quite the colorful place," the Forsaken chuckled in his very youthful, very alive sounding voice. Everyone's attention was drawn to him as was often the case, and he spoke in such a sure, refined manner that he seemed to garner respect almost immediately. "I'm sure there will be more time to catch up later. For now, why don't we get you all settled in to your home?"

"Excellent idea," Cecilia sighed as Erikur forcibly took the group's single bag from them and even managed to carry the rifle, club and glaive without straining. "We could really use a rest." Before they could leave, she noticed a locket the undead was wearing. It was made from pewter, and Khujand remembered the day the two of them had found it at prison. "Mister Valmar, where did you get that?"

The well dressed man took the neckpiece and held it in his hand, examining it as he thought. "Well, your husband and I found it back in the day..."

"In Desolace?" Cecilia asked urgently, and everyone paused to listen to what it was all about.

"Why, yes, at Shadowprey Village's stone quarry. Do you recognize the handiwork?" he asked non urgently.

"Not just that...I..." Cecilia's voice trailed off, and those who knew her well - all of them except Valmar and Erikur - leaned in, realizing that she entered one of her half trance states where she was remembering something significant. "I knew the person it belonged to. I'm absolutely, one hundred percent sure."

The undead man's very alive looking eyes lit up through his mask. "Really? Oh, that's remarkable! Khujand and I knew it must have some sort of historical significance, and I was meaning to research its origins out of curiosity. Is this elven?"

"No way. That's centaur craftsmanship," Irien interjected.

"That belonged to a princess in what is now Desolace, many hundreds of years ago," Cecilia explained as her consciousness appeared to be halfway in the present and halfway in a memory. "We fought her people and their enemies alike. But...I can't remember the details...I met her, and spared her. Things ended up...not perfect, but...amicable in the end." She shook her head in confusion, and Khujand pulled her close when she noticed that everyone was staring at her and waiting for more.

"I fuckin' love ya so much!" Khujand exclaimed in Darnassian, fighting the urge to kiss her right there in front of everyone.

The group of eight adults and two children caught up for the slow, ten minute walk through the crowds up to the north side, where the duplex was situated. They talked about anything and everything, especially Sonja, who was quite interested in having Khujand help her out at the alchemy shop she ran. Unlike either factional capitols, nobody stared at or cared about the varied, multiracial group and more than all the other multiracial groups with their own stories to tell. Cecilia leaned her head on his shoulder as they all walked and talked, and for the first time in his life, he felt as though he fit in with a social circle and even a whole community, without being an oddity or a joke.

* * *

Irien added another bundle of kindling to the campfire on the bluffs overlooking Ratchet. The ocean view was incredible past midnight, with the waters lit up by the stars and moon above as far as they eye could see. There was a bit too much light pollution to clearly see the galaxies and cosmic gasses the way she loved so much, but the view was as splendid as one could expect in an urban area.

She sat back with Cecilia and Khujand, the three of them huddling together under blankets even though the climate was rather warm that far south. The goblins had a particularly delicious if unhealthy snack called marshmallows, and the three of them had quite a time roasting them with pieces of chocolate mixed from the cocoa grown just to the north in Durotar.

"I can't believe we've been here for three nights," she hummed peacefully while leaning against Cecilia, who was leaning against Khujand. "It feels so comfortable already."

"That just means we're all ready for tha quiet life," her Darkspear housemate hummed right back.

"I kind of don't want to go to work," she whined after a beat, and the three of them chuckled lightly while another late night cargo ship sailed in to port.

"I never would have imagined myself here..." Cecilia murmured. She looked so serene, even happier than she'd been during their final days on Draenor.

"In the Barrens or living as a civilian?" Irien asked while leaning back and looking up at her mentor upside down.

"Both."

The three of them waited a few more minutes in silence for their snacks to finish roasting. They were rather tasty when wedged between two crackers, and they all gobbled everything up quickly. Desalinated, distilled water was available in abundance at the port. It didn't taste so good, but after Khujand ran his cleansing spell it was more or less safe to drink. Irien glanced around at the bluff, admiring the long, flat, unsettled expanse.

"I want to build a house here," Cecilia said with a wistful smile on her face. They both looked at her for a few seconds.

"We just bought a house," Khujand replied, furrowing his brow curiously.

"I know, I know, and I love the duplex so much. But I'm talking about for the future, once we need a larger place. Especially once we have kids."

"Don't forget space for their godmother!" Irien chimed in while pointing to herself. She greatly disliked being left out, and knowing that her family and relationship issues likely wouldn't be worked out for many decades to come, she considered hersel as much a part of their family as any children that would be coming along.

"Nobody's gonna forget about auntie Irien, be sure of that," Khujand chortled while leaning against a large boulder he'd rolled over to their spot as a back rest.

"Seriously though, let's work toward it," Cecilia suggested in earnest. She became rather animated when speaking about it. "We can save to buy a plot of land up here before people even realize it would be a nice place to build. Irien, your uncle Geldor can help us just grow a house over a period of time for free. I feel the balance of nature rather strongly in this place."

Irien's eyes lit up at the mention of the only member of her family whom she was still on speaking terms with. "Oh, yeah! I never thought of that! Ralo'shan could bless it, too. I'm sure they'd be happy to do so!"

"Is it really that simple?" Khujand asked.

Cecilia straightened up, giving Irien time to scoot over and continue leaning on her. "In a way, yes. It's time consuming, but relatively simple. Nature knows the needs of those who live in tune with it. No actual labor is required until a tree building is finished; all you have to do is move inside."

"I like that idea," he said thoughtfully after a moment. "All we gotta do is buy tha land first. Long term plans can always happen later."

"Then let's save a portion of what we earn each week. We can keep track, and once we all get to work in a few days, we'll keep each other focused." Irien straightened up as well while discussing the plan, feeling a new sense of both warmth and purpose wash over her.

The three friends sat up but huddled together once more as they counted the constellations from the vantage point of Ratchet. They'd had a long, hard road to get there. They all followed different paths that led them to each other and their group of friends. But for now, they were together, and Irien knew they would stay that way.

For the first time in a long time, things were at peace. And even in a world at war, the three of them would strive to keep things that way.

 **A/N: and they succeed - aside from a single bump on the road. I hope you all enjoyed my transitional story explaining how the trio arrived in Ratchet and started their civilian lives. There are two more stories for them as a group, and in the next one - the big, forty-five chapter story - you see what that bump in the road is. It's more of a fun little thing than anything dramatic or epic, but if you liked this, I hope you stick around for that one.**

 **The whole thing has been finished for a year and the first chapter will be posted in a few weeks; it's titled 'You, Me & Us.' For those who only intended to read this story, I'm so happy that you made it this far, and sincerely hope that the story made you smile. I wish you all the best!**


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